


Non Terrae Plus Ultra

by vatnalilja



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Consensual Sex, Cunnilingus, Drugs, F/M, Female Ejaculation, Masturbation, Multi, Narcissism, Oral Sex, Other, POV Second Person, POV Third Person, Reader-Insert, Robot Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Strap-Ons, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/M, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:08:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 48,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21676537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vatnalilja/pseuds/vatnalilja
Summary: A handful of irrepressible legends and one very exhausted chief munitions engineer.
Relationships: Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Reader, Fuse | Walter Fitzroy/Reader, Loba Andrade/Reader, Mirage | Elliott Witt/Reader, Octane | Octavio Silva/Reader, Pathfinder (Apex Legends)/Reader, Revenant (Apex Legends)/Reader
Comments: 57
Kudos: 414





	1. Harder, Faster, Stronger - 3rd Person POV (Octane)

**Author's Note:**

> This string of chapters started out as Octane smut but it's getting out of hand. The fic title is a bit misleading now, but no sense in changing it. (｡ŏ﹏ŏ)
> 
> I always try to leave my female characters as generic as possible, without names, skin colors, hair/eye colors, etc. I write in the third person, but I want people to see themselves in the female character as much as possible. What I've established is that she has a rather decent position with the games as chief munitions engineer, smokes weed, and likes to fuck. The rest is a byproduct of my biases/writing style.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do drugs, have sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags that apply: F/M, Drugs, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Female Ejaculation, Oral Sex

She peered at the small mechanisms inside Pathfinder's left knee joint, her magnifying lenses allowing her to appreciate how much fine sand he had managed to collect in his machinery. He was fairly good at self-maintenance, but every now and then, he darkened her door for help.

She wasn't supposed to help any of them. Her job was to maintain the arenas' munitions. Any assistance she gave the Legends could be construed as cheating. But she kept her tinkering to a minimum and didn't turn any of them away. Octavio and the MRVN sought her help most often but Elliott stopped by occasionally, mostly to flirt, because of course he did.

She stood up straight and yanked her goggles up to her forehead.

"Let me get my air. It's just some grit," she said.

"I appreciate your assistance," he said in his ever-cheerful voice.

"Make me some stew and we'll be even," she said as she pulled a small air compressor from her nearby workbench.

She pulled her goggles back down and leaned in to blow the sand from his exposed joint. It only took a few well-placed blasts of air to clean him out. For good measure, she added a bit of lubricant before closing the small mechanism back up.

"Hey Doc, you workin' on knees?"

Octavio's voice was distinct, primarily due to his accent. The Legends were a hodgepodge representation of humanity, each almost comically distinguishable from the others.

"Let me guess, your right prosthetic is giving you problems," she responded loudly, not bothering to look up from her last touches on Pathfinder.

His prosthetic legs were remarkably quiet, so if he could manage to contain himself, he could easily sneak up on someone. 

He was rarely able ever to contain himself.

"You know my body intimately," he said, now only a few feet from them. 

His mouth always gave him away.

She pursed her lips at his phrasing. Elliott couldn't help but flirt. He was a charismatic fool. He got himself into and out of situations with his charm. Octavio was just insatiable.

"Of anyone, Pathfinder's body is the one I know best," she said, now dropping her goggles down around her neck. "I've been all up in your chassis, haven't I?"

The screen on the robot's chest flashed a large, red heart.

"You're all set," she said.

The MRVN hopped off of the workbench where he had been sitting and gave her a thumbs up.

"I'll be by tonight to make you dinner," he said.

"It's a date," she said with a grin.

Octavio watched as the robot walked out of the workshop and then looked back at her, his eyebrow cocked.

"Yo, you fuckin' the robot?" he asked.

"No, Octavio, I am not fucking Pathfinder," she said as she began swapping her tools out for the finer ones that his prosthetics required.

"Let me know if you do. I wanna watch," he said, hopping up onto the workbench effortlessly.

She sighed softly.

"Ajay did you such a huge favor in getting these legs for you, you really should take better care of them. And yourself."

"Yeah yeah," he muttered.

"I'm not a doctor, but if you fuck your nervous system up, these bad boys won't do you any good," she said. 

She pushed his shorts up to release the prosthetic from his limb, then set it on the workbench. 

"I didn't come for a lecture, mami," he said.

"I'm an engineer. The body is a machine. In your case, doubly so," she said. "I just want to see it run well. It'd be a shame if it broke down too early."

"That's sweet," he said. "But this bod ain't breaking down anytime soon. I can give you a demonstration if you want."

She looked up at him to catch him grinning like a wolf at her. He was plenty handsome. They almost all were. Even Pathfinder was an amazing example of his model and she admired his build. She had no idea what Bloodhound looked like, so they were exempted. And while Alexander wasn't hideous, it was hard to find a guy who dealt with so much gas attractive.

But Octavio was a wiry, trim beautiful thing. He had a jawline so sharp, he could cut glass with it. His high cheekbones were perfectly round. And his face had plenty of character she found adorable, from the chips in his teeth from doing god knows what to his ears that folded out from his head.

It also didn't hurt he had a nice six-pack.

"You're an engineer, but right now you seem more interested in what's on this side of the socket," he said.

"Stuff it, Silva," she muttered and looked back down at his prosthetic, her cheeks flushed.

He chuckled and leaned back against the wall, watching her work. Knees were hard from an engineering standpoint and maintaining his was even more challenging. He appreciated her help, though. She was brilliant but a bit overly cautious for him. He usually felt like everyone moved so damn slowly, but she was like molasses. Every movement she made was so damn precise. So damn deliberate.

She'd never last in the arena, even if she knew the guns better than the rest of them. He'd seen her shoot. She was an ace with any gun you put in her hands. But she'd never get a shot off in a firefight. She'd make a perfect sniper, but the arena often didn't favor snipers. They weren't any fun to watch, anyway. The crowd loved the messy close combat best of all.

Her hands moved with surgical precision and her fingers didn't waver as she worked. She seemed almost like she was in a trance. He didn't know how she did it. He was doing everything he could not to fidget, lest she yell at him for shaking everything around him.

"You ready for tomorrow's match?" she asked as she worked.

"Hell yeah. I love the new arena," he said. "I'm gonna do some sick shit, just wait and see."

"I always watch," she said. "It helps me understand how exactly you knuckleheads fuck my guns up."

"Who's your favorite?" he asked.

"You keep asking," she said.

"And you never tell me."

"I'm not saying. If I let that slip and anyone finds out, they could construe the help I give him as cheating."

"Is it me?"

"I'm not telling," she said.

"It's me, isn't it?"

She smirked and looked at him for just a moment. 

"Hell yeah, it's me."

"I'm formally impartial to all of you," she said.

"Yeah, but you informally love me," he said.

"That's a bit strong. I didn't know anything about you before you joined the games, you know. I just like how brash you are out there. We're total opposites, so I suppose that's alluring," she said. "This is finished."

She lifted the lightweight leg and lined it back up with his socket, her hands under the hem of his shorts again. The limb clicked, locking in place and she motioned for him to swing it a few times. He did so.

"Feels good," he said.

She gave him a wink and began putting her tools away.

"Like you said, I know your body intimately," she said.

He hopped off the bench and stepped up behind her, pressing himself softly against her back. She felt his breath on her neck, his hands gently resting on her hips. She paused briefly but went back to cleaning up.

"How 'bout I get to know yours," he muttered into her ear.

He pressed his groin up against her ass and nuzzled her neck. Her heart fluttered a few times. She'd been single for a while now and she hadn't bothered with one-night stands, so it was hard to ignore just how much his touch excited her.

"Octavio," she said softly.

He stepped back, the gap between their bodies feeling tremendously unsatisfying.

"Message me tonight when you're done with the robot," he said.

She didn't turn around. Instead, she swore softly to herself repeatedly as he left.

She stared at her mobile's screen, sitting in the darkness of her small flat. Pathfinder had left an hour ago and she'd been sitting on her sofa, arguing with herself about messaging Octavio. She knew he barely slept, so time wasn't an excuse. She found herself starting and then deleting messages--everything she wrote just felt stupid. 

She was probably better off fucking the robot.

She finally settled on just her address, hit SEND, and waited. Short and sweet. Minutes went by with no response and she began to relax. Maybe he had gotten busy. Maybe he forgot. Maybe she was off the hook. Maybe she didn't have to be nervous about fucking the heir to Silva Pharmaceuticals, a guy who had fans in every damn sector for his reckless stunts.

She had gotten through several sets of maybes when her door chimed, snapping her from her nerve-wracked thought process. Her gaze flashed to the front door and she froze. Was he so eager that he just showed up without responding?

She practically climbed over her sofa and pulled the door open. He was standing there in the exterior hall, silhouetted by the night sky behind him, the hood of his zipper sweatshirt pulled up. He was grinning under the hood, his hazel eyes glinting in the glow cast by the hallway light over her door. 

"I was one hundred percent convinced you wouldn't message me," he said, slipping in past her. 

"I almost didn't," she said, closing the door behind him.

He pulled his hoodie off and tossed it over a chair, then shook his short, unkempt green hair. From the pockets of his shorts, he withdrew several stims and set them on the table.

"I brought some for you," he said with a wink. 

"I'm good," she replied. "That shits addictive. I've got my own stuff."

"You smoke that shit that slows you down, don't you?" he asked. 

She gave him a single finger gun and rounded her sofa, sitting back down. She pulled out some papers and began rolling herself a joint with the dried flowers that sat in a nearby bag. He grabbed his injections and sat with her, watching her practiced routine. Once she was satisfied, she sat back and dug a lighter from her pocket. His leg jittered as she twirled the joint over the flame until she produced a bright red smoldering end. She then popped the joint between her lips and took a long drag. 

"How can you sit so damn still?" he asked. 

She held the joint up as an answer to his question and then slowly exhaled the smoke through her nose. Her lips parted slightly and more smoke poured out. Her anxiety began to melt away as she stared at his face. For all purposes, Octavio was a junkie. A rich junkie with steady access to high-quality stims. But a junkie nonetheless. Guys hooked on uppers could go forever, so if she was gonna do this, she needed to be ready to be up the rest of the night. 

She hung the joint from her bottom lip and grabbed all of her things. She would probably need to roll another one or two of these before the night was over. 

"Alright, let's do this," she said, standing. 

He blinked a few times and then sprung to his feet.

"Hell yeah," he said and followed her as she made her way to the bedroom. 

He was already out of his t-shirt when she turned to look at him. She took another drag from her joint as she admired his narrow chest and his even narrower waist. Reaching out, she grabbed the top of his shorts and pulled him toward her.

"Damn, I didn't think you'd be so into it," he said with a laugh as she undid the top button. 

"It's been a while. I'm very ready," she said. 

He shimmied out of his shorts and tugged at the bottom of her shirt. With his help, she pulled it up over her head without losing the cherry on her joint. His hands were on her bare breasts immediately, his thumbs moving back and forth over her nipples. She slid her own hand into his boxer briefs, her fingers wrapping around his rigid cock. 

He moaned and gripped her shoulders, pushing her toward the bed. She took a step back and then crumbled into the blankets with him. The rest of their clothes came off quickly and he slid his body on top of hers while she put her joint out in the ashtray on the nightstand. 

His mouth was on her neck as he ground himself into her, the head of his cock pressing against her thigh. She rested her hands behind her head and let her eyes drift half closed, enjoying the feeling of his form against hers.

"Shit," he muttered and reached over the edge of the bed, hanging there until he found his stims. 

After sitting back up straight, he jammed one into his upper leg. The green chemical drained from the syringe and his eyes lit up. He let out a loud laugh as he tossed the injector over his shoulder. It clattered against the wall and hit the floor.

"You're in for it," he said with a growl as he positioned himself between her legs.

He pushed her left leg back toward her with one hand while he grabbed his cock with the other and rubbed his swollen head up against her labia. He could see how wet she was, which made his cock twitch. He then slid himself through her lips once more before moving his hand to spread them with his fingers. 

He took one good look before sinking his cock into her. She inhaled audibly, her eyes rolling slightly as he pushed himself into her with a single, fluid motion. It was more than she had expected, but it still felt good. His head lolled back and he squeezed both of her hamstrings, pressing her thighs back toward her head.

He paused for one brief moment before his hips began a full-on assault of fevered thrusts. She cried out in surprise and reached up for something to grasp onto, but she had no headboard. Her palms flattened against the cool wall behind her. 

"Jesus fucking Christ!" 

"Wrong guy, baby," he said, his hands moving down to her waist.

He pulled her against him with each thrust, moving so quickly and forcefully that she was virtually immobilized. She felt like he was going to rattle her brain straight out of her head. Despite all of the jarring movement, she managed to slide her hand down to her clit. The stimulation from his rapid plunges was unreal, his skin pushing against and peeling away from her vulva feeling amazing. 

Her eyes locked with his. His pupils were like dark pools, dilated from a combination of the drugs and the pleasure. His chest was already damp with sweat, giving him a gorgeous glow in the dim light from her nearby lamp.

She barely had to rub her clit. The jostling from his movements did a lot of the work for her. All she had to do was apply pressure. The urge to come right away was strong, but she had a feeling this was going to go on for a while. Instead, she continually brought herself close and then withdrew her fingers before she orgasmed. 

"You feel so fucking good," he groaned, his fingertips digging into her. "I'm never gonna stop."

She couldn't help but laugh. She was going to be raw tomorrow, but it'd be worth it.

"You're an animal," she said.

"And that's just the first stim," he said. 

He leaned down, resting his forearm on the bed at her side, his mouth connecting with hers. His pace didn't falter as he ran his other hand around the back of her head, through her hair, kissing her with little finesse. She could feel his heartbeat in each place their upper bodies met. The rate at which it raced was otherworldly. She would have collapsed by now if their situations were reversed.

He lifted his head and gave her another grin, this one more mischievous than the others. Without a word, he slid his entire body back, slipping his cock from her. The world steadied and she took a second to center herself. But no sooner than she had taken a single breath, she felt his tongue on her clit and his fingers curl up inside of her. He began stroking her with his fingers as his tongue rapidly and firmly flicked her bud.

She buried her hands in his hair and gripped it as her lower half began to swell with a pleasurable, aching sensation. Few men were good at finding a clit, let alone all of the sensitive areas within, but Octavio seemed to have zero issues as his fingers worked a small, soft spot inside her. Before long, she began to feel the tingling, urgent sensation that she both loved and couldn't stand. It was almost too much. 

"Oc," she whined.

He chuckled as he felt her flex her pelvic muscles, pulling them up and pushing them down. Minutes passed and she had become a mewling mess. She was incredibly wet, the sheets underneath her now damp from his attention. He continued well past the point when anyone else may have tired out, his stamina, natural and artificial, driving him. He was determined to make her come. 

Her whimpers changed into intermittent gasps, her back arching. Her pussy was like a vice around his fingers. 

"Come for me, bebé."

He paused his attention on her clit for a moment to watch her writhe. Her mouth fell open, but no sound came as he felt her push down hard on his hand. He wrapped his lips back around her clit and pushed his tongue against it. Her high-pitched squeal came next as she unleashed a flood of fluid over his wrist and arm. After what felt like immeasurable moments, her squeal turned into a whimper and he sat up, pulling his hand from her. 

"You've made a mess," he said with a grin.

"Fuck, Octavio," she whispered. 

He reached down over the side of the bed, grabbing another stim. 

"My turn," he said and slammed the injector into his abdomen. 

She hadn't recovered before he rolled her onto her side and hooked his hand under her top knee, pushing it up and back. She cried out as he plunged himself inside of her. She tried to prop herself up on her lower arm, or at least use it to steady herself, but it was almost no use. The speed at which he moved made it difficult to maintain any stability.

After a minute or so, he pulled himself out, watching the line of fluid connect the head of his cock to her pussy. He then flipped her onto her stomach, eliciting another cry from her.

He muttered something she couldn't make out and she inhaled sharply as his open palm met her ass, the sound ringing through her room and the stinging sensation sending a jolt through her. He gripped her ass and squeezed it, then slapped it again. 

"I could watch this ass jiggle all night," he said with a laugh.

He then wrapped his hands around her hips and slid his cock back into her.

"I might actually come," he said. "This feels way too fucking good."

He gave her several full thrusts, pulling himself nearly the whole way out before sinking straight back in. The sight of her labia around his shaft was fucking amazing. But there was only so much slow movement he could take before he resumed his machine gun thrusting. 

She rested her face in her pillows and let out an occasional cry mixed with a soft laugh. She was feeling ethereal after her orgasm, like she was half in another dimension, lingering in pleasure. He felt incredible, but she was no longer gripped with sheer desire. She could instead enjoy the sensation for what it was, even though she felt like her head might be jostled off her neck by the time he was finished. 

"Fuck, I actually _am_ gonna come," he said, his voice low.

With gritted teeth, he squeezed her hips and slammed himself into her roughly, his pace hiccupping as he yelled out a string of incoherent Spanish. He pumped himself inside of her a few more times, cursing as he filled her. He hadn't meant to come inside of her, but it happened so quickly that it surprised even him. 

After a few more moments, he let go, a shiver running through him as he slid himself from her. He paused to catch his breath, his eyes drifting along her figure from the top down. 

"This is the biggest fuckin' wet spot I've ever seen," he said, sitting back on his metal heels.

He felt his heartbeat slow as the stim began to wear off. His first inclination was to grab another, but his body also was sending a signal that he should just lie the fuck down for a few minutes. Besides, he didn't have any of his equipment with him. 

He grabbed a blanket and set it over the spot below him, then collapsed into the bed next to her. She had already rolled over and relit her joint, smoke once again curling from her lips. 

"I'm just gonna give you a key to my flat," she said, grinning. "Nobody's ever made me come like that, so you are welcome _anytime_."

He matched her grin.

"You're never gonna walk straight again," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only cowards don't love Octavio's face reveal.


	2. Harder, Faster, Stronger - 2nd Person POV (Octane)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do drugs, have sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've adapted the first chapter into the 2nd person POV. It's 99% the same text, just written in 2nd person. I removed some text that felt like it was from Octane's perspective (not very much).
> 
> An experiment on my part--I usually don't write in the 2nd person, but I'd be happy to adapt each chapter if people like it.

You peer at the small mechanisms inside Pathfinder's left knee joint, your magnifying lenses allowing you to appreciate how much fine sand he had managed to collect in his machinery. He was reasonably good at self-maintenance, but every now and then, he darkened your door for help.

You aren't supposed to help any of them. Your job is to maintain the arenas' munitions. Any assistance you give the Legends could be construed as cheating. But you keep your tinkering to a minimum and don't turn any of them away. Octavio and the MRVN seek your help most often, but Elliott stops by occasionally, mostly to flirt, because of course he does.

You stand up straight and pull your goggles up to your forehead.

"Let me get my air. It's just some grit," you say.

"I appreciate your assistance," he says in his ever-cheerful voice.

"Make me some stew and we'll be even," you say as you pull a small air compressor from your nearby workbench.

You yank your goggles back down and lean in to blow the sand from his exposed joint. It only takes a few well-placed blasts of air to clean him out. For good measure, you add a bit of lubricant before closing the small mechanism back up.

"Hey Doc, you workin' on knees?"

Octavio's voice is distinct, primarily due to his accent. The Legends were a hodgepodge representation of humanity, each almost comically distinguishable from the others.

"Let me guess, your right prosthetic is giving you problems," you respond loudly, not bothering to look up from your last touches on Pathfinder.

His prosthetic legs are remarkably quiet; if he could just manage to contain himself, he could very easily sneak up on someone.

Octavio's dilemma was that he could rarely contain himself.

"You know my body intimately," he says, now only a few feet from you.

It's his mouth that always gives him away.

You purse your lips at his phrasing. Elliott can't help but flirt, being a charismatic fool. He gets himself into and out of situations with his charm. Octavio is just insatiable. There is nothing in life that seems to be enough for him.

"Of anyone, Pathfinder's body is the one I know best," you say, now dropping your goggles down around your neck. "I've been all up in your chassis, haven't I?"

The screen on the robot's chest flashes a large, pink heart.

"You're all set," you say.

The MRVN hops off of the workbench where he had been sitting and gives you a thumbs up.

"I'll be by tonight to make you dinner," he says.

"It's a date," you say with a grin.

Octavio watches as the robot walks out of the workshop and then looks back at you, his eyebrow cocked.

"Yo, you fuckin' the robot?" he asks.

"No, Octavio, I am not fucking Pathfinder," you say as you began swapping your tools out for the finer ones his prosthetics require.

"Let me know if you do. I wanna watch," he says, hopping up onto the workbench effortlessly.

You sigh softly.

"Ajay did you such a huge favor in getting these legs for you, you really should take better care of them. And yourself."

"Yeah yeah," he mutters.

"I'm not a doctor, but if you fuck your nervous system up, these bad boys won't do you any good," you say.

You pull his shorts up to release the prosthetic from his limb, then set it on the workbench.

"I didn't come for a lecture, mami," he says.

"I'm an engineer. The body is a machine. In your case, doubly so," you say. "I just want to see it run well. It'd be a shame if it broke down too early."

"That's sweet," he says. "But this bod ain't breaking down anytime soon. I can give you a demonstration if you want."

You look up at him to catch him grinning like a wolf at you. He is plenty handsome. They almost all are. Even Pathfinder is a fantastic example of his model and you admire his build. You have no idea what Bloodhound looks like, so they are exempted. And while Alexander isn't hideous, it's hard to find a guy who dealt with so much gas attractive.

But Octavio is a wiry, trim beautiful thing. His jawline is so sharp, he could cut glass with it. His high cheekbones are perfectly round. And his face has plenty of character you find adorable, from the chips in his teeth from doing god knows what to his ears that fold out from his head.

It also didn't hurt that he had a nice six-pack.

"You're an engineer, but right now you seem more interested in what's on this side of the socket," he says.

"Stuff it, Silva," you mutter and look back down at his prosthetic, your cheeks flushed.

He chuckles and leans back against the wall behind him, watching you work. Knees are tricky from an engineering standpoint and maintaining his is even more challenging. He appreciates your help, though. You're smart, but you understood that you must seem like molasses to him. Every movement you make is so precise. So deliberate. It has to be.

Your hands move with surgical precision and your fingers don't waver as you work. You seem almost in a trance to an outside observer. You can tell he is doing everything he can not to fidget, lest you yell at him for shaking everything around him.

"You ready for tomorrow's match?" you ask as you work.

"Hell yeah. I love the new arena," he says. "I'm gonna do some sick shit, just wait and see."

"I always watch," you say. "It helps me understand how exactly you knuckleheads fuck my guns up."

"Who's your favorite?" he asks.

"You keep asking," you say.

"And you never tell me."

"I'm not saying. If I let that slip and anyone finds out, they could construe the help I give him as cheating."

"Is it me?"

"I'm not telling," you say.

"It's me, isn't it?"

You smirk and look at him for just a moment.

"Hell yeah it's me."

"I'm formally impartial to all of you," you say.

"Yeah, but you informally love me," he says.

"That's a bit strong," you say. "This is finished."

You lift the lightweight leg and line it back up with his socket, your hands under the hem of his shorts again. The limb clicks, locking in place, and you motion for him to swing it a few times. He does so.

"Feels good," he says.

You give him a wink and begin putting your tools away.

"Like you say, I know your body intimately," you say.

He hops off the bench and steps up behind you, pressing himself softly against your back. You feel his breath on your neck, his hands gently resting on your hips. You pause briefly but go back to cleaning up.

"How 'bout I get to know yours," he mutters into your ear.

He presses his groin up against your ass and nuzzles your neck. You become distinctly aware of your heart in your throat.

"Octavio," you say softly.

He steps back, the gap between your bodies feeling tremendously unsatisfying.

"Message me tonight when you're done with the robot," he says.

You don't turn around. Instead, you swear softly to yourself repeatedly as he goes.

You stare at your mobile's screen, sitting in the darkness of your small apartment. Pathfinder had left an hour ago and you've been sitting on your sofa, arguing with yourself about messaging Octavio. You find yourself starting and then deleting messages. Everything you write just feels embarrassing.

You are probably better off fucking the robot.

You finally settle on just your address, then hit SEND and wait. Short and sweet. Minutes go by with no response and you begin to relax. Maybe he was busy. Maybe he forgot. Maybe you were off the hook. Maybe you didn't have to be nervous about fucking the heir to Silva Pharmaceuticals, a guy who had fans in every damn sector for his reckless stunts.

You make it through several sets of maybes when your door chimes, snapping you from your nerve-wracked thought process. Your gaze flashes to the front door and you freeze. Was he so eager that he just showed up without responding?

You practically climb over your sofa and pull the door open. He's standing there in the exterior hall, silhouetted by the night sky behind him, the hood of his zipper sweatshirt pulled up. From under the hood, you can see his grin, his hazel eyes glinting in the glow cast by the hallway light over your door.

"I was one hundred percent convinced you wouldn't message me," he says, slipping in past you.

"I almost didn't," you say as you close the door behind him.

He pulls his hoodie off and tosses it over a chair, then shakes his short, unkempt green hair. From the pockets of his shorts, he withdraws several stims and sets them on the table.

"I brought some for you," he says with a wink.

"I'm good," you reply. "That shits addictive. I've got my own stuff."

"You smoke that shit that slows you down, don't you?" he asks.

You give him a single finger gun and round your sofa, sitting back down. You pull out some papers and begin rolling yourself a joint with the dried flowers that sit in a nearby bag. He grabs his injections and sits with you, watching your practiced routine. Once satisfied, you sit back and dig a lighter from your pocket. His leg jitters as you twirl the joint over the flame until you produce a bright red smoldering end. You then pop the joint between your lips and take a long drag.

"How can you sit so damn still?" he asks.

You hold the joint up as an answer to his question and then slowly exhale the smoke through your nose. Your lips part slightly and more smoke pours out. Your anxiety begins to melt away as you stare at his face. For all purposes, Octavio was a junkie. A rich junkie with steady access to high-quality stims. But a junkie nonetheless. Guys hooked on uppers could go forever, so if you were gonna do this, you had to be ready to be up the rest of the night.

You hang the joint from your bottom lip and grab all of your things. You figure you'll need to roll another one or two of these before the night is over.

"Alright, let's do this," you say, standing.

He blinks a few times and then springs to his feet.

"Hell yeah," he says and follows you as you make your way to the bedroom.

He is already out of his t-shirt when you turn to look at him. You take another drag from your joint as you admire his narrow chest and his even narrower waist. Reaching out, you grab the top of his shorts and pull him toward you.

"Damn, I didn't think you'd be so into it," he says with a laugh as you undo the top button.

"It's been a while. I'm very ready," you say.

He shimmies out of his shorts and tugs at the bottom of your shirt. With his help, you pull it up over your head without losing the cherry on your joint. His hands are on your bare breasts immediately, his thumbs moving back and forth over your nipples. You slide your own hand into his boxer briefs, your fingers wrapping around his rigid cock.

He moans and grips your shoulders, pushing you toward the bed. You take a step back and then crumble into the blankets with him. The rest of your clothes come off quickly and he slides his lean body on top of yours while you hurriedly put your joint out in the ashtray on the nearby nightstand.

His mouth is on your neck as he grinds himself into you, the head of his cock pressing against your thigh. You rest your hands behind your head and let your eyes drift half closed, enjoying the feeling of his form against yours.

"Shit," he mutters and reaches over the edge of the bed, hanging there until he finds his stims.

After sitting back up straight, he jams one into his upper leg. The green chemical drains from the syringe and his eyes light up. He lets out a loud laugh as he tosses the injector over his shoulder. It clatters against the wall and hits the floor.

"You're in for it," he says with a growl as he positions himself between your legs.

He pushes your leg back toward you with one hand while he grabs his cock with the other and rubs his swollen head up against your labia. He then slides himself through your lips once more before moving his hand to spread them with his fingers.

You watch him take one good look before sinking his cock into you. You inhale audibly, your eyes rolling slightly as he pushes himself into you with a single, fluid motion. It is more than you had expected, but it still feels good. His head lolls back and he squeezes both of your hamstrings, pressing your thighs back toward your head.

He pauses for one brief moment before his hips began a full-on assault of fevered thrusts. You cry out in surprise and reach up for something to grasp onto, but there's no headboard. Your palms flatten against the cool wall behind you.

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

"Wrong guy, baby," he says, his hands moving down to your waist.

He pulls you against him with each thrust, moving so quickly and forcefully that you are virtually immobilized. You feel like he is going to rattle your brain straight out of your head. Despite all of the jarring movement, you manage to slide your hand down to your clit. The stimulation from his rapid plunging is unreal, his skin pushing against and peeling away from your vulva feeling amazing.

Your eyes lock with his. His pupils are like dark pools, dilated from a combination of drugs and pleasure. His chest is already damp with sweat, giving him a gorgeous glow in the dim light from your nearby lamp.

You barely need to rub your clit. The jostling from his movements does a lot of the work for you. All you have to do is apply pressure. The urge to come right away is strong, but you have a feeling this is going to go on for a while. Instead, you continually bring yourself close and then withdraw your fingers before you orgasm.

"You feel so fucking good," he groans, his fingertips digging into you. "I'm never gonna stop."

You can't help but laugh. You are going to be raw tomorrow, but it'll be worth it.

"You're an animal," you say.

"And that's just the first stim," he says.

He leans down, resting his forearm on the bed at your side, his mouth connecting with yours. His pace doesn't falter as he runs his other hand around the back of your head, through your hair, kissing you with little finesse. You can feel his heartbeat in each place your upper bodies meet. The rate at which it races seems otherworldly.

He lifts his head and gives you another grin, this one even more mischievous than the others. Without a word, he slides his entire body back, slipping his cock from you. The world steadies and you take a second to center yourself. But the moment you take a single breath, you feel his tongue on your clit and his fingers curl up inside of you. He begins stroking you with his fingers as his tongue rapidly and firmly flicks your bud.

You bury your hands in his hair and grip it as your lower half begins to swell with a pleasurable, aching sensation. Few men were good at finding a clit, let alone all of the sensitive areas within, but Octavio seems to have zero issues as his fingers work a small, soft spot inside you. Before long, you begin to feel the tingling, urgent sensation that you both crave and can't stand. It is almost too much.

"Oc," you whine.

He chuckles as he feels you flex your pelvic muscles, pulling them up and pushing them down. Minutes pass and you are a mewling mess. The sheets underneath you are damp from his attention. He continues well past the point when anyone else may have tired out, his stamina, natural and artificial, driving him. He is determined to make you come.

Your whimpering evolves into intermittent gasps, your back arching.

"Come for me, bebé."

He pauses his attention on your clit for a moment to watch your writhe. Your mouth falls open, but you make no sound as you push down hard on his hand. He wraps his lips back around your clit, his tongue against it. Your high-pitched squeal comes next as you unleash a flood of fluid over his wrist and arm. After what felt like immeasurable moments, your squeal turns into a whimper and he sits up, pulling his hand from you.

"You've made a mess," he says, obviously satisfied with himself.

"Fuck, Octavio," you whisper.

He reaches down over the side of the bed, grabbing another stim.

"My turn," he says and slams the injector into his abdomen.

You're still recovering when he rolls you onto your side and hooks his hand under your top knee, pushing it up and back. You cry out as he plunges himself inside of you. You try to prop yourself up on your lower arm, or at least use it to steady yourself, but it is almost no use. The speed at which he moves makes it difficult to maintain any stability.

After a minute or so, he pulls himself out, watching the line of fluid connect the head of his cock to your pussy. He then flips you onto your stomach, eliciting another cry from you.

He mutters something you can't make out and you inhale sharply as his open palm meets your ass, the sound ringing through your room. The stinging sensation sends a jolt through you. He grips your ass and squeezes it, then slaps it again.

"I could watch this ass jiggle all night," he says with a laugh.

He then wraps his hands around your hips and slides his cock back into you.

"I might actually come," he says. "This feels way too fucking good."

He gives you several full thrusts, pulling himself nearly the whole way out before sinking straight back in. You rest your face in your pillows and let out an occasional cry mixed with a soft laugh. You are feeling ethereal after your orgasm, as if you are half in another dimension, lingering in pleasure. He feels incredible, but you are no longer gripped with sheer desire. You can enjoy the sensation for what it is, even if you feel like your head may be jostled off your neck by the time he was finished.

"Fuck, I actually am gonna come," he says, his voice low.

With gritted teeth, he squeezes your hips and slams himself into you roughly, his pace hiccupping as he yells out a string of incoherent Spanish. He pumps himself inside of you a few more times, cursing as he fills you. After a few more moments, he lets go, a shiver running through his body as he slides himself from you. He pauses to catch his breath, his eyes drifting along your figure from the top down.

"This is the biggest fuckin' wet spot I've ever seen," he says, sitting back on his metal heels.

He grabs a blanket and sets it over the spot below him, then collapses into the bed next to you.

"I'm just gonna give you a key to my apartment," you say, grinning at him. "Nobody's ever made me come like that, so you are welcome anytime."

He matches your grin.

"You're never gonna walk straight again," he says.


	3. Ready to Burn - 3rd Person POV (Octane)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do drugs, have sex in the arena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This happens around season 3 and well before the change to the legends that allow Bloodhound and Crypto to use the beacons (via cards).
> 
> Tags that apply: F/M, Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Semi-Public Sex

The World's Edge felt almost like a vacation after dealing with all of the shit that had happened to Kings Canyon. It was also a hell of a lot prettier. It took moving the games to an entirely new location to get the Syndicate off her ass about all of the repairs--the canyon was so busted that she'd been working way too many hours and losing too much sleep to stay on top of everything. Even with a team of people, it was too much. 

She didn't have any evidence, but she was convinced the new legend had something to do with the chaos. Shit going south and a skilled hacker suddenly entering the games was more than a coincidence. But her job as a munitions engineer was to design new shit and fix the broken shit, not to ask questions. Asking the Syndicate questions about the games was a great way to get yourself killed. Besides, Crypto was plenty good looking and she didn't mind him being around.

She closed the panel on the survey beacon and watched it come back to life. Nobody used these things except Pathfinder and she screamed like hell at the monitors whenever his team wouldn't put him in a position to use them. She was particularly fond of the MRVN and almost more than anyone (with maybe one exception), loved to see him win.

She gathered her things and hooked herself to the line, preparing to rappel back down to the first floor when she heard the faint sound of a ship growing closer. Looking to the sky behind her, she saw the unmistakable drop ship closing in. Her watch confirmed the date and time, confusing her further. There weren't any games scheduled for today. Were there? 

The last place she wanted to be was in the arena when the shooting started. She needed to get to an old access tunnel ASAP, the closest one that hadn't crumbled in on itself was at the train station on the other side of Capitol City. 

She stashed her tools in a container and slid down to the ground floor, cursing under her breath. If she got caught in any footage, she'd be be fucked. Unplanned variables in a game messed with the Syndicate's betting algorithms and pools. And nobody fucked with the Syndicate's pools and walked away.

The ship was now practically overhead and she could make out the trails of about half of the legends. Quietly pleading for them to stay away from her, she hugged the walls of each building she passed, avoiding the open streets.

"Attention. First blood."

She hadn't heard any gunfire, which temporarily filled her with some relief. Maybe she could pull this off. She didn't want to lose her job and she certainly didn't want to wind up dead for throwing a game.

The station was empty, thank god. She made her way through the waiting areas toward the basement and found the access panel behind a potted plant. She had no idea who watered these things and why, but she wasn't in charge of staging the arena, just making sure it kept working. She fought with the panel for a moment before she realized it was locked. Of course it was. She fumbled with her ring of keys, grimacing at the sound they made. 

She had too many damn keys. 

From somewhere nearby in the station, she heard a single gunshot, which nearly made her scream. But she kept her shit together and froze in place. The sound of metal hitting the floor followed.

"Oops."

She could here the smile in his voice. She knew it immediately. It was Octavio and he had shot the drone that was filming him. He had no reason to do that unless he didn't want to be monitored. Which meant... 

"What the hell are you doing in here?" he asked, rounding the corner. 

"Trying to get the fuck out. There's not supposed to be a match today," she whispered and crouched down. 

"That's what I thought, but they sent out a message coupl'a hours ago that a game was on," he said, walking over to her. 

"It's that fucking Crypto, I guarantee it," she hissed. 

He shrugged.

"Makes no difference to me, I'm always ready for a match," he said. 

She couldn't see his grin behind his mask, but she knew it was there. 

"You'll be DQed if they see you with me," she said, returning to her keyring. 

"Babe, I'm doing you a favor," he said. "You could thank me."

"Thank you, Octavio," she said. 

"Nuh uh," he said. "That's not what I mean."

He set his SMG down on the counter and jostled his belt, pulling it up a bit so he could unfasten the top of his shorts. Her brow furrowed as she watched him unzip his fly. 

"Are you out of your goddamn mind? They'll send another drone over immediately," she whispered. 

"Have a little fun," he said. "Fuckin' live a little!" 

"I'd like to keep living, Oc. The last thing I need is a drone broadcasting me fucking you down here. They'll kill me."

From inside his shorts, he pulled out his cock with one hand and picked the SMG back up with his other. 

"Living is only fun when you're on the verge of dying, bebé," he said. "I'll shoot down any drone they send."

"And your team?" 

"Won't matter if we're fast," he said, still grinning.

She groaned quietly, but fell forward onto her knees and took his half-erect cock in her hand. He let out a pleased sigh and combed his fingers through her hair as she slid his foreskin back and wrapped her lips around his head. The tip of her tongue pressed up under the ridge behind his head, rubbing the soft skin there, which earned her a moan from him that was louder than she would have liked. 

After a few moments, she slid her mouth down along his shaft, letting him reach the back of her throat, suppressing whatever instinct she had to gag. Her eyes flicked up toward him, but he wasn't watching. His attention shifted from one end of the hallway to the other.

"Faster," he said. "I got a game to win."

She sat back, letting his now fully erect cock pop from her mouth.

"Fuck off, Oc. I don't have to do this," she hissed.

"Yeah, but I know you wanna."

Part of her wanted to punch him in the groin and unlock the panel. He wasn't going to snitch on her, she had nothing to lose at this point. But he wasn't wrong. There was something incredibly exciting about doing this when there was no incentive... something about being caught made it even more of a turn on.

She leaned back in and slipped his cock back into her mouth, her fingers circled around the base. He finally looked down at her as her head bobbed back and forth, her mouth a tight seal around him. She was good at this, making him even more thankful for his steel legs.

"I wish the world could see this," he said. "Cuz it looks way too fucking good. I should start recording us when we fuck."

Her eyes flashed up at him in annoyance, which made him chuckle.

He felt the tension in his abdomen well as he grew closer to coming, but he decided it wasn't enough. Maybe this was _too_ fast. It hardly felt like they were in danger. He grabbed her arm and began hoisting her up from the floor, surprising her.

"What the hell, Oc?" she asked as he spun her around and pushed her stomach up against the counter.

With his free hand, he reached around her and easily undid her trousers, pulling them down with a few well placed tugs, along with her underwear. He squeezed her ass as he rubbed himself against her.

"You've got the nicest fuckin' ass," he muttered. "I wanna watch it bounce."

"And you think this is the time?" she whispered.

"Hells yeah."

With a sigh, she leaned over the counter, tilting her ass up toward him. She felt his index finger slide along her clit as his middle and ring finger slipped inside of her. She was much wetter than she had expected herself to be. 

"Apparently you think it's time, too," he said. 

His fingers withdrew and in their place, she felt his cock push up against her, his head sinking into her pussy. She reached out and wrapped her hands around the edge of the counter as he glided into her.

"Admit it, you love my cock," he said in a teasing tone. "Why else would you be so wet?" 

"My body has different ideas than I do."

"Keep a look out, would you?" he asked, ignoring her comments.

He let his free hand fall to his side and admired the view as he began to pound her from behind rapidly. His legs kept him steady as he plunged in and out of her, his cock now glistening. Her whole body bounced as he hammered her--she had no idea in hell how expected her to keep watch. In fact, her eyes blurred as she enjoyed the sensation. He moved so fast and hard that he stimulated just about everything.

After a minute or two, he slowed but didn't stop fully as he leveled his prowler, aiming it down the hall.

"You hear that?" he asked. 

She didn't hear a damn thing as she was more focused on his full, smooth deep thrusts, each of which nearly made her cry out in delight. She quickly clasped her hand to her mouth, not sure she could resist making any noise. 

From the stairs at the end of the hall came Mirage, but he didn't make eye contact with either of them as he jogged past. They both watched as he got snagged on a chair and came to a stop, giving himself away as a decoy. Octane lowered his gun. 

"I got everything down here, compadre, no reason to come down!" he yelled. 

"You sure?" Mirage's voiced trailed down the stairs. 

"Yeah, I'm _sure_ ," Octane said very emphatically. 

"Alright, but speed it up. You're taking way too damn long... which is unlike you."

Mirage's voice trailed off as he moved away. 

"He wants me to speed it up? I can speed it up," Octane muttered. 

He let out a long, loud moan as he resumed his furious pace, surprising her enough that she let out a muffled squeal into her palm. He laughed and pulled a stim out from the stash on his hip, draining it into his abdomen. 

"I love this part," he groaned as the drugs hit his blood stream, making him feel alive.

His thrusts grew more urgent, faster than before, which she didn't even think was possible. Her keyring, which was hooked to her belt-loop but had been stuffed in her pocket, came loose and immediately started to jangle with wild rhythm. The sound was so loud, it made her want to die. There's no way they couldn't hear it upstairs. She pressed her face into the countertop and covered her head with her arms. 

From above, she heard another single gunshot and Mirage's voice casually call down the stairs. 

"OOPS. Geez these drones, I tell ya."

With a few guttural sounds, Octane slammed himself into her a few final times then quickly withdrew. But before she could react, she felt his two fingers slip up through her labia again, where he found her engorged clit. She could feel him practically dancing behind her as he rubbed his fingers back and forth at the speed of light. 

"Come on," he said quietly.

Normally, the pressure to come had the exact opposite effect, but his hand moved so damn fast that it felt better than any vibrator. She reached back out to grip the edges of the counter, the stimulation nearly too much, more than a wand on its highest setting. 

"Ffffffffffffuuuu," she whined, her knuckles going white.

"Come on come on come on," he urged, shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

Her heart leaped into her ears and for a few moments, she couldn't hear anything. Her eyes clamped shut as her cry came out instead as a long ragged gasp. Pleasure cascaded from the crown of her head into her fingertips and toes. For a moment, she was floating. 

When she finally lifted her head, she saw him hopping awkwardly away, trying to run and redo his fly at the same time.

"There's no way I can lose now," he said with another laugh. "I'll be over later to celebrate. Now get the hell outta here."

With that, he jammed another stim into his upper leg and took off up the stairs.

She slunk down behind the counter and pulled her trousers back up, still not entirely with it. Her whole body was quivering. After finding the correct key, she quietly unlocked the panel and disappeared inside, sitting with her back against the door inside the small, dark access hall. 

"You ready?" Mirage asked as Octane came up the stairs and cruised past him.

Octane cackled. 

"Stimmed up and ready to burn, amigo."


	4. To Wit(t) - 3rd Person POV (Mirage)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elliott knows, and he wants to know more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags that apply: F/M, Vaginal Sex, Narcissism, Cunnilingus, Fluuuuuuuuuuuuuufffff
> 
> This was written before we really understood Witt lived at his bar

Elliott leaned back against her workbench, the heels of his palms on the surface's edge behind him, watching as she sorted through work requests on her computer. She wasn't paying him any attention, which completely baffled him. This face, this hair? How could she just ignore him? And so consistently? 

"You, uh, seeing the Silva kid, huh?" he asked.

She shot him a brief look.

"As far as anyone is concerned, no," she said.

"That must be a hell of a ride."

"It's like being with a jack hammer," she said under her breath.

Elliott laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. She tried not to look at him, she tried so very hard. He was plenty handsome, but if he caught her peeking at him, it'd go right to his head and he'd be pestering her for days.

"Are you just here to gossip?" she asked.

"Hey, I was only curious. Kind of wish I could have seen it for myself."

"Witt," she warned.

"I kid, I kid. Kind of. Hey, I'll get out of your hair. You've probably got a lot of important work to do, you know, as muni-mu-munish-- being in charge of all the guns. I guess someone has to do something around here."

"You're right," she said, but her brief sideways gaze betrayed her. 

He noticed it instantly. His senses were finely honed for any attention that came his way. With a flawless executed toss of his hair, he shot her a charming look complete with a hallmark wink. He then pivoted and made his way out of her shop. She watched after him for a moment before her inner voice chastised her giving him what he wanted.

And then he left her alone for a week, during which he won a game and ate up the new round of attention from the press and his fans. His winning team also included Silva, who bathed in the affection of his own adoring fan base. As such, she had a nice, quiet string of days where nobody bothered her except for Pathfinder, who continued to improve his leviathan stew with her input.

The days flew by without distraction. Some time into the beginning of the next week, a courier brought her a package at home just as she was settling in for the evening. After signing for it, she realized it wasn't even addressed to her. 

It had her home address, but the name was Elliott Witt. 

"Hey wait, this isn't right!" she called after the courier, holding the toaster sized box. 

"Sorry, you signed for it," the courier called back with a dismissive wave as he disappeared down the stairwell. 

She grumbled and gently shook it, then took a photo with her mobile and messaged it to Witt. 

_What's the deal?_

_Oh, it arrived. Cool cool. Could you bring it by? Tonight is fine. Or you know, whenever._

_Come get it yourself._

_Can't. Busy. You know how it goes._

She huffed. Who the hell did he think he was? But that was exactly the problem--he knew precisely who he was and if she didn't haul it over, it'd be sitting in her apartment until she caved or just threw it away. The possibility of tossing it was alluring, but in the end, it was just easier to take it over and be done with it. She could be over there and back in less than an hour, even stopping for a bite to eat along the way.

He greeted her with a warm smile, throwing the door open before she could even knock. He lived in a much nicer complex than her, one with a secure front door and a call system. And apparently he knew exactly how long it took to get from the front door to his apartment.

"Welcome!" he said with more cheer than she thought necessary. 

"I have your damn package. Why did you send it to me?" 

"Oh that? It's some new parts for my holo-emitters. I figured you might want to help me with them, you know, doing what you do. You can put it anywhere."

Elliott didn't take the package from her, but instead left the door open and wandered back into his apartment. She thought about leaving it in doorway and just going, but she had to admit that she was curious about his place. She stepped in after him and closed the door.

"Brandy?" he asked.

He was looking smart in a tightly fitted, lightweight grey sweater and slim, white denim pants. A soft scent of cologne trailed behind him.

"I don't want to impose," she said.

"Oh no, you're not imposing at all," he said as he made his way to the wet bar and poured two small glasses of brandy.

She looked around for a place to set the box and was impressed by how many photos of himself he had hung on the walls. He had no shame, his vanity was limitless. Beyond the shrine to himself, the place was very posh. He had made a small fortune in the games and he surrounded himself with nice things.

"I'm about to put some pork chops in the oven. You should stick around," he said, approaching her.

She set the package down on a small table by the door and took the brandy from him, against her better judgment. Her mind was yelling at her that if she didn't leave now, she'd end up being here for hours. But goodness, he smelled nice. And the smile spreading across his face was devilishly perfect. And his hair? 

"I shouldn't--"

He had wonderful hair. 

"Leave? You're right. You shouldn't leave. Sit down. Relax. Make yourself at home. Enjoy my magman-magana-mag--generosity," he said.

"I can't stay for dinner, but I'll have this drink," she said. 

"You'll change your mind after they start cooking," he said with the world's most obnoxious wink. 

He then turned and made his way to the kitchen. Her eyes lingered on his gorgeous ass. With a resigned grimace, she sat down in an overly comfortable arm chair and continued looking around the room. She knew he was vain, but this was more than she expected. For some reason, she thought some of his ego was hammed up for the cameras, but no. Clearly not the case. 

It seemed that the man was really in love with himself.

He reappeared after a few minutes, catching her staring at a poster sized photo commemorating his first win. With another grin that gleamed in the light, he stepped up next to it. 

"Pretty cool, huh?" 

"My god, Elliott," she said. "You are something else."

She didn't mean it as a compliment, but that didn't stop him from taking it as such and he gave her two quick finger guns before sliding down into his sofa a few feet away. She had never seen someone try too hard to look cool and pull it off at the same time, but he had it mastered. 

A buzz from her mobile in her back pocket broke her line of thought. She pulled it out, finding a message from Octavio. A small jolt of panic coursed through her--she had sent him a message earlier in the day to invite him over. A girl had needs, after all. But when she opened the message, she couldn't refrain from snorting.

_Gotta cancel tonight, babe. Getting the squad together for a Battlefield tournament._

With a sigh, she stuffed the mobile back in her pocket and looked at Elliott, who was looking right back at her, glass of brandy in hand. His perfectly manicured brows lifted and his brown eyes twinkled, almost as if he could read her mind. Sitting there, he seemed like an actual adult, especially compared to Silva. 

"You two aren't actually dating, are you?" he asked.

"As the games' chief munitions engineer, I'm most certainly not allowed to date any of you."

"Good."

He winked again.

"Elliott," she said with another sigh. "What are you doing?" 

He held up his hand, giving her a look of insincere surprise. 

"Me? Nothing! Isn't it nice to enjoy the company of another adult, though? Fulfilling intercourse. Good wine. Delicious food. A nice, leisurely evening between consenting adults."

She pursed her lips, hating that she was enjoying this. He was so immaculately put together. Everything about him was clean and well kept. And he had concocted this silly ploy to get her over here. His ability to plan literally anything was refreshing. 

"Let me restate my question. Why are you doing this?" 

"I just thought it would be nice to show our favorite, underappreciated engineer a little love."

"This isn't some sort of weird head game where you have sex with me and then tell Octavio mid-match, is it?" 

"What? No! Elliott Witt doesn't kiss and tell," he said. 

"So you _are_ trying to have sex with me."

His glass was up to his lips at that moment and he sputtered, choking on the liquid. He quickly wiped himself off and attempted to stammer some type of denial. She wasn't actually annoyed with him, but she found his stuttering to be endearing so she let him continue. It was a crack in the perfect facade he put up, a glimpse of the imperfect man underneath.

Upon seeing her own wry smile, he realized he wasn't in trouble. 

"You don't have to be so crude about it," he said.

"You've got beautiful adoring fans everywhere," she said. 

He gave her a not so humble shrug. 

"So why are you bothering with me?" 

"Hey, don't sell yourself short. You're not bad looking. I like the way your nose does that thing when you smile."

She was not aware of anything her nose did when she smiled. She touched its tip idly.

"It's cute," he said. "Plus, I have a feeling that you're pretty open to interesting experiences. Call it a hunch."

She knew he was referring to the other week, when he had essentially stumbled upon Octavio pounding the hell out of her mid-match. It hadn't been her finest moment, but she hadn't been fired and it _had_ been a thrilling experience. But now it apparently meant to him that she was into things.

"If you're thinking I have a thing for sex in public--" 

"No, not that," he said. "My proposition is much more intimate. Just you, me, me, and me."

She stood up without saying a word and helped herself to the wet bar, refilling her glass with whiskey instead. She slammed it and then filled it again. After a moment, she turned back around to face him. 

"Your holo-pilots are elaborate, but they're still just holograms, Elliott."

"Yeah, but it's a great show," he said. 

An alarm went off somewhere in the kitchen and he jumped up to rescue his dinner from the oven. Just like that, he left her there, drink in hand, baffled by his statement. Was his vanity that extreme? She knew people had mirrors, but this was beyond that. 

Now she was curious. 

While he kept busy putting the final touches on his meal, she quietly slid down the hall. There weren't many doors to choose from. One was the bathroom, the other a second bedroom that had been repurposed into a place for him to work on his gear. Finally, the door at the end opened up into a large corner room with dark heavy drapes over several large windows. The king sized bed was pushed up into a corner and the adjacent walls were indeed lined with mirrors that reached the ceiling, which itself was plastered with yet more.

"I can keep dinner warm and we can come back to it later."

His voice came from over her shoulder. 

She wasn't sure how long she'd been standing there, marveling at his bedroom, but he had snuck up behind her. Her face grew hot and she spun around to find him inches away. He was so close that she bumped into him as she moved. He laughed as he caught her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"You don't need me, you've got your holo-pilots," she whispered. 

"Oh, I _need_ you," he purred. "Now I know you're into all sorts of things. MRVNs, speed freaks--" 

"I haven't had sex with Pathfinder," she said in firm protest.

"Wait, you haven't?" 

"No! Why does everyone think I have?" 

"Why's he always over at your place, then?" 

"He likes to cook for me!" 

Elliott paused, but his hand still pulled her in closer. His cologne was even more hypnotic. He had managed to put just the right amount on, something most men failed at miserably. She felt herself lean in instinctively toward him, her body making decisions without consulting her brain. 

"Huh. Well, I'm actually relieved. That robot is weird, man. Okay, so maybe you're not as much of a freak as I thought, but that doesn't mean anything, does it?… Does it?" 

"Stop talking, Elliott," she whispered and then pulled him down into a kiss. 

Everything about the kiss was soft--his lips, his beard on her skin, his pace. There was no sense of urgency in his kiss. In fact, it felt like they could stand here in the doorway all evening and just do this. His other arm slid around her and they leaned their weight into the door frame. 

She felt him smile into the kiss right before pulling away slightly. 

"Impossible," he said. "You know, I already told you one thing I liked about you. Now it's your turn to tell me something nice."

His lips were on her jaw, kissing down along it to her neck, just behind her ear. One of his hands found its way under the back of her shirt, his fingers gently stroking the skin close to her spine. Her entire body flushed under his touch.

"You already know just how handsome you are," she said.

"It's nice to be told," he whispered.

"I like the way you trip over your words," she said. 

"Really?" he asked, leaning back to give her an almost indignant look. 

She had clearly caught him off guard. He had been expecting something much more standard. But any complaint he had quickly faded away, replaced by a grin. 

"Man, you don't blow sunshine up anyone's ass, do you?" 

"I'm not going to worship you, Elliott," she said. "Sure. You look good. You smell good. You have a nice voice--" 

"Go on. Don't forget the hair."

"Amazing hair."

"Thank you."

"What was I saying?" she asked, losing track of her point. 

She made the mistake of locking eyes with him and that was all it took. The way his eyes smiled with the rest of his face was completely bewitching. She forgot her protests and snaked her arms around his neck, tugging him back into a kiss. 

It wasn't before long that she somehow found herself lying on his bed, his hand moving the hem of her shirt up along her ribs, his lips on her navel while the other undid her pants. She was a puddle, part of her wishing he'd hurry it the hell up while the other part of enjoyed just how slowly he moved. Her whole body shuddered as his lips brushed along her hip, only conflicting her further. 

Encouraged by her reaction, his fingers slid down the front of her loosened pants, dipping into her warm folds. He lifted his head to look up at their reflections in the mirror, meeting her eyes. He kept the gaze of her reflection as his first two fingers grazed her swollen clit. After all of this, it wasn't hard to find. He delighted in the little gasp that escaped her.

With both hands he peeled her trousers from her with a pace that she found excruciating. As he revealed her skin, he took time to cover it in more soft kisses. He earned another gasp, this one more in surprise, as he placed her now bare toes in his mouth.

"Elliott," she said in half protest. 

"I could never get tired of you saying my name," he said, crawling back up along her body, rubbing himself against her. 

He pulled his sweater over his head and tossed it aside, shaking the loose curls of his hair back into place. A thin layer of dark hair covered his chest, trailing down past his stomach and disappearing into the pants he was now unbuttoning. His gaze remained on the mirror, it being the only way he could fully see himself, after all. 

He shimmied free of his tight pants, but left his incredibly small black briefs on, which did very little to hide the bulge underneath. His hand was between her thighs again and she spread her legs across the soft blankets. He lowered his head, still at her side--getting between her legs would make it much harder to see the mirrors. His fingers spread her labia and he angled himself accordingly, his tongue sliding up along her clit. 

"Ellliooott."

This time it was practically a coo as she folded her arms over her eyes. 

"It's no fun if you don't watch," he said. 

He waited for her to peek out from under her forearms before he resumed and she let out a long deep breath, her gaze flicking up toward the ceiling while his focus was on the nearby wall. She realized then that she was still wearing her tshirt. Pausing to admire herself, she thought for a moment how oddly out of place she looked, but how cute she was regardless. There was no reason she didn't deserve this. 

A jolt of pleasure rushed through her as he continued. He was damn good at this, but he was taking his time. She wriggled out of her shirt, then looked back up, admiring him from the top down view. 

His body was beautiful, his build that of an athlete. His skin was marked by fading scars, undoubtedly picked up in the arena, which was a good reminder that for all his bluster and trickery, he was deadly in combat. And that despite all of his foolishness, he was actually quite brilliant.

He sat up, his fingers replacing his tongue. 

"It's a little lonely in here, don't you think? Could use something more, like more of me," he said.

"You're seriously going to put your holo emitters on in bed?" she asked, laughing at the idea of him strapping on his gear. 

"Those are mobile emitters, my dear. I don't need them at home."

"Oh god, you've got this whole place decked out in them, don't you?" 

"Naturally," he said, the word rolling off his tongue with a melodic confidence. "But first."

He tugged his briefs off, freeing his partially erect cock, then leaned over to the nightstand next to the bed. From the drawer, he pulled a small device, a bit bigger than her mobile. He muttered for a bit as he appeared to be scrolling through menus. 

"This thing is so hard to use. I should complain to the guy who made it," he said.

When she was completely quiet, he looked at her for a moment. 

"It's a joke because that guy is me. I designed it. Man, tough crowd. Sheesh. Okay... just gotta start it up annnnnd, voila."

With a tap of the screen, two decoys flickered to life on the bed, one lying on each of her sides. She had never been so close to them before, but she was immediately impressed with their quality. They were far, far nicer than any holo-pilot she'd seen. One propped his head in his hand and grinned while the other gave Elliott an emphatic finger gun. 

"Whaddya think?" he asked, clearly very proud of himself. 

"That this is a bit overwhelming. What do you do with these, Elliott?" 

"I'm happy to give you a demonstration," he said. 

With a snap of his fingers, the decoys focused their attention on her. Their hands appeared to touch her, but she felt nothing, as was to be expected. The illusion was very good, though, whether she looked directly at them or up to the mirror. Any observer wouldn't immediately be able to tell which one was the real him. 

With finesse, he slid between her legs and rested them on the tops of his splayed thighs. He moved so smoothly that she was barely sure how he got there at all. 

"I gotta tell you, this is an amazing view," he said. "I'd be jealous if I weren't also me. They're convincing, right?" 

"You put Narcissus to shame, Elliott."

He flashed her a giant grin and at the same time, pressed the head of his cock against her clit. He was still only half erect, but the sensation was wonderful. And if it weren't for the mirrors, she might not have been able to see him past the decoys, one of which appeared to have her nipple in his mouth while the other seemed to grind his body against her hip. 

The real Elliott groaned softly as he watched and stroked himself, the head of his cock nestled into her labia. With each passing minute, she could tell he was getting harder as his length slid along her lips. He ran his hands over her legs and gripped her hips. His attention diverted briefly to his cock, which he angled down and pressed against her opening. It was a beautiful sight, every bit of her engorged and flushed. His head pushed in about an inch before stopping so he could enjoy the view. A long exhale escaped him as he slowly slid his length into her. She moaned in response. 

"It feels good, doesn't it?" he asked. "Right? Tell me it feels good."

"It feels amazing, Elliott," she whispered. 

Relief washed over him and his smile now seemed truly genuine. He watched his decoys writhe against her for a moment, enjoying the sensation of her surrounding him. Her warmth was wonderful. She made a series of small, happy noises as he began gliding in and out of her with a slow, purposeful pace.

She started to reach her hand out to run it through the hair of one of the decoys but stopped when she remembered it wasn't real. The urge to touch him, any part of him _was_ real but if she reached out for the actual Elliott, it would break the illusion and it had become apparent that these decoys were more for him than her. So she folded her arms behind her head and simply watched, enjoying everything. 

The overhead mirror gave her an angle she was not used to seeing, allowing her to watch him fuck her. She now understood just why he put up all of these mirrors. His gaze shot up to their reflection above and he then let go of her to flex. 

She couldn't contain the snort. He was too ridiculous. But her reaction didn't deter him--his gaze flicked from mirror to mirror and he continued to admire himself, but he made sure to lock eyes with her regularly. There was no show if there was no audience, after all. Through all of this, his hips continued their fluid thrusting. 

The urge to touch him became too great and she finally reached out, putting her hands on his well-defined abdomen, the decoys flickering as her arms passed through them. The AI adapted cleverly around her.

As good as he felt, he also seemed a hundred miles away. There was very little intimacy. She felt like she could have been anyone, or even a doll.

"Elliott," she said. 

"What's up?" 

"Can you... turn these off?" 

"What, you don't like 'em? How can you not love them?" 

"I'd just rather be with one of you, the actual you," she said. 

He slowed, his brow knitting slightly. 

"What's not to love about this show? Everybody wants more Mirage."

"One of you is more than enough. You're already larger than life, Elliott," she said. 

She grabbed his arms and began pulling him down toward her. The decoys flickered again when he broke their image after she wrapped her arms around his torso, continuing to pull him in closer. Unlike everything prior, her tugging on him lacked any finesse. She had caught him off guard, but he didn't fight her. 

His chest pressed against hers and she kissed him once he was close enough. After a few beats, he returned the kiss and she felt his whole body relax. His arms slid under her shoulders while her legs wrapped around his frame, the two of them removing the empty space between their bodies.

He found his rhythm again and resumed his thrusts, burying his face into her neck. She could feel his heart beating through his chest and into hers, a far more satisfying feeling than merely watching him. Her fingers lightly trailed up and down his back as she moaned again, murmuring his name. 

He planted the palms of his hands into the bed, straightened his arms, and pushed himself up off of her. Several curls of hair fell out of place, framing his face. She had never seen his hair anything other than impeccably styled and swept off to the side. She could now also fully appreciate the scar that bisected his eyebrow, along with the few on his cheek and nose. 

"God, you're beautiful," she whispered. 

"Yeah?" he asked.

He glanced at a mirror and used a hand to try to fix his hair, which she grabbed and pulled to her lips, kissing his fingers, her eyes still on his face.

"It's impossible for you to be anything but beautiful."

"I need to send you more mystery packages."

After she let his hand go, he paused and reached over, grabbing the pad he used to summon the decoys. He tapped on it a few times and with zero fanfare, the decoys vanished. He then pushed the pad off the bed, onto the floor.

"I want to watch you come," he said as he now took her own hand, guiding it down between them. 

She didn't need any encouragement and pressed her fingers up against her clit, rubbing it in sync with his thrusts. Gripping him with her legs and pleasuring herself was too much, so she let her legs fall back into the blankets. 

"Just don't stop looking at me," he said softly. 

He leaned in and kissed her for several long moments, then watched her face as she pleasured herself. After a bit, his attention was almost awkward. Looking someone in the eye for this long in this particular was intense, among other things. The urge to close her eyes and focus on the increasingly urgent desire was almost overwhelming. 

But his warm, brown eyes were equally compelling as they eagerly scanned her face. His breathing was steady and his form strong as his hips continued their even pace. Her free hand rested against his jaw, her fingers in his beard.

"You feel so good," she muttered, her cheeks starting to burn in the mixture of embarrassment and arousal.

He gave her yet another grin, genuinely pleased with himself. The tempo of his thrusts increased. With a groan, she began rapidly rubbing her clit at a chaotic diagonal, pressing hard into her flesh. Soft expletives came pouring out of her as that sense of urgency became almost dire. He felt it as her muscles tightened around him, the pressure on his cock growing quickly too much to bear. 

He watched her pupils dilate further and felt her body arch up against his. Her mouth froze for just a moment and then she practically roared as bliss coursed through her body. His name replaced the expletives and she groaned it loudly over and over again. 

He no longer kept any sort of pace--he was slamming himself into her, his eyes still on her face, devouring the sight of her flooded with pleasure. He now let out his own series of moans as the tension gave way and his cock jumped inside of her. She watched his expression go blank for a split second before he resumed groaning as his arms gave way and he fell into her form.

After a bit, they rolled onto their sides and she brushed the hair from his face.

"It doesn't always have to be a show, Elliott."

"Hey, when you're with me, it'll always be a hell of a show... but, um. Thanks. Really. I appreciate it."

He drew her into his chest and gave her several lazy kisses. 

"Like I said before, Elliott Witt doesn't kiss and tell. Also, since your place is across town and it's getting late, you're more than welcome to stay."

Early evening light still crept around the edges of the curtains and she only lived a kilometer and a half away. But he made no sign of letting her go. With a gentle laugh she returned his kisses, her arm draping over his side.

"Plus, dinner is waiting for us," he added. 

"It's nice to be cooked for by an actual man for once," she said.

"You sure you're not fucking that robot?"

"Shut the fuck up, Witt," she said with a laugh.


	5. Twice Good - 3rd Person POV (Octane & Mirage)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loose lips sink dicks.
> 
> (I'm not sorry.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometime around season 3.
> 
> Tags that apply: Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome, Vaginal Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs

She sat idly watching recaps of the day's game on her mobile, not even bothering to use her computer. Her monitor was bigger, but it was busy running calculations on the amount of equipment the Legends had destroyed. The winning team had been Lifeline, Mirage, and Octane. She wasn't surprised. The three of them worked well together, flanking and ambushing the others. It was also the third win in a row for Mirage and Octane--to be honest, she was surprised the games matched them together again.

Resting her arms and chin on her work table, she held her mobile out in front of her and rewound several plays, admiring how quickly they worked through things and just how unfairly handsome Witt was, always winking at the cameras when he had a chance.

A yawn escaped her as she noted the time: 2200 already. She could have gone home, but she may as well just crash on the cot in the corner. The day of and after a game always meant a lot of work. She'd grumble, but they paid her too well to be upset.

"Don't you ever go home?"

She turned to see both Elliott and Octavio strolling through her workshop doors, each with a bottle of champagne. They had been celebrating all evening and she suddenly had a very awkward realization: they had probably talked.

She sat up straight, her brow furrowed as they sauntered across the room. Elliott sat on the corner of the table while Octavio handed her his bottle. She stared at them both for a moment and then took a long drink.

"Sometimes," she said. "What are you doing here?"

"So me and my man have been chatting," Elliott said, leaning in on his knee. "He knows I know and now he knows what we know."

"Excuse me?"

"You've been fucking us both," Octavio said, much more matter of fact.

"Look. I did _not_ mean to fuck Elliott," she said. "That just sort of happened."

"It just _sort of happened_ a few times," Elliott said. He shot her a finger gun and clicked his tongue, then said, "So I had a brilliant idea. I told Silva here, what if we both fucked you and filmed it. Great idea, right? I'm full of 'em. Great ideas, that is."

She took another gulp from the bottle.

"Why do you want to film it?" she asked. 

"Because we look amazing," Elliott said, holding his arms out.

"You agreed to this?" she asked, shooting Octavio a desperate look. 

"Hell yeah, bebé," he said. "It'll be a rush."

Without looking, she pointed up at the security camera in the corner behind her. The Syndicate didn't scour her tape, but she was technically always being watched. A helping hand here and there hadn't gotten her in trouble, but this certainly would.

"Don't worry about those. I convinced the new kid to help us out," Witt said. "As far as security is concerned, we never even walked in here."

She wanted to ask how he managed to do that, but thought better of it. Witt wasn't known for being succinct and Octavio was beginning to get impatient, the familiar bounce in his steel legs starting up. Meanwhile, Witt was just smiling down at her, his brown eyes glinting devilishly. She ran through excuses in her mind, but they all seemed to fall flat. To be honest, as nervous as it made her, the idea of a threesome equally excited her.

"Give me a second," she said and then proceeded to finish the bottle of champagne. It had only been half full when she took it, but that should be plenty enough to bolster her courage. 

"I take it that's a yes?" Witt asked. 

She discarded the bottle and stood. 

"Let's go before I change my mind," she said. 

He grabbed her hand and tugged her over to him at the table, where he spun her around, swapping their places. Octavio quickly moved in and the two of them were at each of her sides. Witt's lips were on hers as Silva undid her pants and ran his hand down into them, his fingertips slipping through her labia. She gasped into Elliott's kiss, surprised by how quickly things were happening. 

"Hey, if it's too much or you need us to stop, just tell us," Elliott whispered.

He paused for a moment to reach down and fetch something from a satchel he had brought along. He activated the object and it whirred to life almost silently, floating in the air. She recognized it immediately--it was a drone with a 360° camera. 

They were serious. 

Elliott gently pushed it into place and then resumed kissing her, his hands pulling at her shirt. Octavio was already peeling her pants down her legs. While their hands ran along her body, she idly wondered why she, of all people, was the object of their fantasy. Fingers slid up inside her and she groaned, looking down at her body. She followed the arm back up to Octavio's hallmark wolfish grin.

It was then she realized that whatever the three of them did, their secret was safe. They were all incentivized to keep quiet. The two of them were smarter than she gave them credit. But her thoughts were quickly interrupted as Elliott hefted her up onto the work table and drew her shirt over her head.

"Christ, you two are insatiable," she said. 

Grabbing her by her hips, Octavio pulled her up to the very edge of the table, then crouched down and buried his face between her thighs. She whimpered as his tongue found her clit and she leaned back onto her elbows. The table was barely wider than her shoulders.

Elliott dropped his jeans and yanked his shirt from his body. She wasn't paying much attention to him--Octavio had her full attention as he began fucking her with several of his entwined fingers. But at a certain point, Elliott's cock was impossible to ignore and her eyes drifted from it, up along his fit body. He wasn't demanding, seeming content for now to watch her enjoy herself, but he was too gorgeous to leave hanging. 

Putting all of her weight on one elbow, she twisted her body to lean in toward him. She took his cock in her hand and rolled her tongue along its head. He reached down and cupped the back of her head, but let her toy with him for a bit. Her eyes shot up to his as she slid his length into her mouth, and then she remained still. His fingers gripped her hair and he then began to thrust in and out of her mouth.

The sensations were overwhelming and she attempted to relax as much as possible, closing her eyes to focus on the pleasure between her legs. Were it anyone else, she was sure she'd be too distracted to even approach orgasm, but Octavio was damn good.

Eventually, the attention between her legs was too much and she pulled her head away from Elliott. Her body began to tingle and she needed desperately to put her feet somewhere as they dangled off the side of the table. Witt's hands were instantly under her knees and he pushed her legs back. He always managed to read her body language--hell, her mind--perfectly. She let her back fall onto the table and let out several moans as she felt the burning in her groin explode, the fire raging along her nerves straight to her toes and fingers. 

She writhed on the table for a bit while the two men stood over her, watching her. Octavo then pulled his hoodie off, his tshirt coming with it, and undid his shorts, letting them fall to the floor before he took over holding her legs back. He sunk his rigid cock into her, watching as her pussy still quivered from her orgasm.

"Mira, she's hungry," Octavio said with a laugh. 

He fucked her like a well-oiled piston, even without any stims, and her moans devolved into small mews. Her eyes drifted open and she watched Silva's slim hips roll smoothly back and forth. He was a goddamn machine.

She looked over to Elliott, who was stroking himself as he watched her entire body jiggle with each of Octavio's thrusts. He grinned again when he realized she was looking up at him.

"I'm surprised you'd want to watch anyone who wasn't you," she muttered.

He slid his hand down to her clit, which sent a small jolt through her--she was still sensitive. The circles he pushed into her were slow at first.

"I amaze even myself, babe," he said.

She couldn't not laugh, but she pushed his hand off his erection and began stroking it for him. His head, free from his foreskin, glistened with precome. From even this angle, he was a beautiful vision, though she would never freely tell him so.

She toyed with him, nothing about her motions urgent, the complete opposite Octavio, who was now pounding her at a furious pace. Elliot's fingers also worked up to a speed that mirrored Octavio's, drawing an increasing amount of adorable sounds from her. 

She didn't think she was ready to come again, but her body was helpless against their attention. Her hand slowed to a stop on Elliott's cock as his sped up. He watched as her mouth opened but made no sound, her eyes shutting again tight. Every muscle in her body clenched and small squeal escaped her. 

Octavio muttered a string of curses as his rhythm broke down. He let out a long groan as he thrust a few final times, his slender arms shaking as he came. After a few moments, he stepped back, admiring the view as his cock slipped free.

When she lifted back out of her fog, Elliott had taken Octavio's spot and he was repositioning the camera. If she weren't a puddle of firing synapses, she may have felt a twinge of embarrassment, but her brain didn't have any energy to devote to anything that wasn't pleasure.

Octavio moved to her side and leaned over to kiss her, his hand on her breast, gripping it firmly. He lacked Elliott's finesse and his attention was always intense, but never uncomfortable. She moaned into his kiss as she felt Elliott slide into her.

"You look fucking amazing when you come," Octavio said in a low, satisfied voice. His accent had grown thick from a combination of alcohol, exhaustion, and pleasure.

He nipped at her lips, his fingers squeezing her nipple. His touch was like lightning, sparking her body wherever he touched her. In any other circumstance, she'd be numb after two orgasms and ready to pass out, but it was clear he wasn't done with her.

She whimpered again as Octavio tugged at her while Elliott kept a slow pace, resting her legs up against his chest. He pressed them together, enjoying the extra friction as her muscles gripped and released his cock. After a bit, he pulled her legs back open so he could watch himself fuck her. Her vulva was so incredibly swollen, the visual was almost too much.

"Make her come again," Witt said.

Octavio laughed as his two fingers quickly hooked into her clit.

"You're going to kill me," she groaned, surprised when she throbbed against his touch.

"I can't imagine a better way to go," Elliott said.

She looked up at him just in time to catch the wink and perfect hair toss. He was too much and he knew she loved it.

"How quick you think I can make her come?" Octavio asked. 

"Fuck," she said through gritted teeth as Silva started off fast. Her clit was going to be angry in the morning.

She propped herself back up on her elbows again so she could better watch his hand as it raced back and forth in a flurry. She was sure she was too numb to have another orgasm, but his touch was like magic. This time, it crept up on her, less urgent and much less powerful. But her head still rolled back and she still made plenty of pleased sounds as the warmth spread up from her abdomen into her stomach and chest. 

"Perfect," Elliott growled as he sped up, his thrusts now eager as her pussy sporadically clenched around him.

He continued for a minute or so, squeezing her legs back together as his every inch glided in and out of her. His grip on her legs tightened as he hugged them to his body. His breaths became pants and then grunts as he came, slamming himself into her. After several moments, he slowed to a stop and let her legs down, where they hung limply off the table.

She let out several loud sighs and flopped back onto the table, her arms also draping off its edges. She didn't look like she was getting up any time soon--she was a very nude, very wet mess.

"Looks like someone'll need to carry her home," Elliott said with a weary smile.

"Unlike you two, I have work to do in the morning," she muttered.

They helped her up and she leaned into them as she redressed, her legs weak. Eventually, she sat down in her chair and watched as they put their own clothes back on, admiring their bodies. Compared to Elliott, Octavio was a waif, but they were both wonderfully easy on the eyes.

"You're actually going to work?" Elliott asked as he ran his hands through his hair, pushing it back over to one side. His brow was cocked in disbelief.

"We got more champagne, you know," Octavio said, his hands jammed in his hoodie.

"C'mon," Elliott said, taking her upper arm gently, pulling her to her feet and into his side.

"You're definitely going to kill me," she said but let herself be dragged out.


	6. Well Polished - 3rd Person POV (Pathfinder)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the devs didn't deny that the robot fucks, I threatened my friends with Pathfinder smut. So, I've finally had the chutzpah to post some robot sex. I feel silly for writing and posting this, but here it is.
> 
> Tags that apply: Fingering, Robot Sex, Strap-Ons, F/Robot

The stew, as always, was delicious. Pathfinder's company was reliably good and his cooking had gotten better. He had even surprised her by bringing along a bottle of wine she particularly enjoyed, which she polished off since he had no way of helping.

"How was it?" the MRVN asked, simply sitting and watching.

"Wonderful," she said as she sat back in her chair. "You picked a good bottle, too. You never fail to impress, you know that?"

"Mirage mentioned you enjoyed this style."

"Excuse me, what?"

"I learned quite a bit about you from both Mirage and Octane in our last match together."

"Oh, _do_ explain."

She set her glass down on the table.

"For example, I learned that in order to make you sing like a _canaria_ , there's a particular spot about three inches--"

She held up her hand and he stopped. Her face had flushed in annoyance. Not at him, even though she wasn't thrilled with the idea that he had learned these things about her, but with the boys, who apparently couldn't help running their mouths about her private life.

"Did they _tell_ you this?"

"No, but I overheard it."

She could practically hear the two of them snickering with each other at the top of a tower, not paying any attention to their third squad member simply because he was a MRVN. They both had the individual capability to be obnoxious--together, they were surely worse. It was hard to not be annoyed, but it wasn't his fault. She quashed the feeling with a shake of her head and finished the wine in a single gulp.

"If you like, I could use what I've learned to make you sing. I'd like to hear that."

His tone was as cheerful as ever, without a hint of shame about what he was saying.

She could only chuckle at the absurdity as she stood and started to clear the table. Hell, everyone seemed to assume that she was fucking the damn robot already. She paused and studied him for a moment. What would that even be like? It wasn't as if he had the equipment. 

"Hypothetically, how would you do that?" she asked. 

He lifted his long, articulated fingers and fanned them.

"You've actually considered this, haven't you?" 

"I have!" 

She shook her head but he registered the small smile on her face. He followed her to the kitchen and hovered behind her as she put the dishes in her sink. She turned to him and put her hands on the bar on his chassis, humming in thought.

"What would you get out of it?" she asked. 

"The satisfaction of helping a friend."

"That's not good enough. I know you don't feel emotion in the way humans do, but is there any sensation you enjoy? A sensation you prefer or seek?" 

He processed her question for a moment. 

"There is a moment after I interface with a survey beacon where my system receives a small jolt I find particularly interesting."

"Those beacons weren't exactly designed to interface with MRVNs. That shock is undoubtedly from the incompatibilities in your systems. You enjoy that?" 

"It is unexpected."

She patted his chest. 

"Just like you."

She was intensely curious about what he could do. Would being with him feel cold and detached? That was hard to imagine. He had plenty of personality and was far more uplifted than any other MRVN she'd met. And it was particularly humancentric to say he didn't feel emotions. He had proven that he had his own way of individually processing experiences. She knew this curiosity was going to one day get her in a precarious situation she couldn't talk her way out of, but she hadn't gotten there yet. 

"Alright," she said. "Let's do this. You only live once, right?" 

"I was hoping you would say yes," he said. 

"Really?" she asked as she started pulling her pants off. He helped steady her, his long arm wrapping around her waist. 

The vibe in the room was odd. This was apparently something they were both interested in, but there was a complete lack of hormones. To say it felt like an intermediate step between her vibrator and sex wasn't accurate, either. She was emotionally attached to him but hadn't ever actually considered him as a partner. He was a MRVN, for fuck's sake. 

"Yes, really," he said. "New experiences are great. Especially ones with friends."

She kicked her pants away and then pulled her shirt over her head. She wasn't sure it was necessary, but being half dressed just seemed odd. Before long, she was standing nude next to him, looking up at him. The strangest thing was that he had no face. It had taken her some time to get used to talking to him casually without any eyes on which to focus. She then wondered where they should do this. Did she take him to the bedroom? The sofa? He was quite literally a robot and in very good condition, so his comfort was less of an issue. But without all of the emotional connection that usually went along with sex (intended or otherwise), she wasn't sure where she wanted to be. Her anxiety was absolved when he effortlessly turned her around and her heart jumped as she leaned onto the countertop.

This was actually happening. 

He held his hand out and rotated it in its cuff so the whole thing was effectively upside down. Then, without very little fanfare, his fingers probed her pussy. The whole thing felt very awkward, nothing about it registering in her mind as erotic. She looked over her shoulder, wondering if there was a moment this would stop feeling so sterile and start to feel like sex.

"Do you... know what you're doing?" she asked. 

"I've done research," he said, ever in good spirits. Whatever hesitation she was feeling, he lacked completely.

His fingers were noticeably cool as they pushed into her and she felt his thumb press up against her clit. An all too familiar tingle lit up her lower half at the attention. She stepped each foot out slightly, making it easier for him to manipulate her. It quickly became easy to appreciate his abilities as his fingertips caressed from the inside as his thumb rubbed her clit in a perfect circle. It went from practically nothing to a hell of a lot all at once.

"Holy fuck," she said in surprise.

"Is it good?" he asked. 

"Yeah, Pathfinder. It's very good."

She rested her forehead in her hands, enjoying the stimulation. It was more than good--it was amazing. He didn't falter, his speed remained precisely the same. It was slow to start and she just let herself float in the feeling.

"Faster," she said after a while. "Please."

"Of course," he said. 

His fingers sped up immediately and she let out a small cry at the sudden change in intensity. Without thinking, she shifted her weight onto her toes as she pushed her ass up into the air further. The demanding ache began to well within her and her body no longer seemed to mind the source of the pleasure. It didn't take much more before it hit, his attention was so precise. Her head suddenly felt full as everything seemed to blank out of existence except for a quiet whine between her ears. She couldn't even hear the high-pitched noise streaming from her, half moan, half sustained note. Every bit of her body clenched and and then finally gave way, her legs going weak as she practically dangled from the countertop. 

He withdrew his hand and with a deft finesse she couldn't even appreciate in that moment, he lifted her into his arms and carried her through the apartment until he found her bedroom. He laid her on the bed and sat on its edge, watching her chest rise and fall as she murmured on pleasure. Her lower body would occasionally convulse, visibly pulsing with pleasure.

"That was intense," she muttered. "And fast. Holy shit, that was fast."

"I can do it again," he said, the screen on his chest flashing with a large heart. 

"I'm gonna need like ten minutes," she said with a laugh. "Can you do me a different favor?" 

"Always!" 

"Can we keep this between you and me? I don't need to get any crap from anyone about this."

"It'll be our secret," he said. "Besides, I don't want to disappoint any of my fans."

Her eyebrows shot up and she turned her head in the pillows toward him.

"What do you mean? Do you get... love letters from fans?" 

"Yes! Some of them are even explicit."

It wasn't a surprise, really. Not after what had just happened. Thinking on it, she was sure she wasn't the first person to fuck around with a MRVN. Humans were filthy creatures focused on sexual pleasure and had a long obsession with robots. But she hadn't considered that he had robot fetishists for fans.

"Huh," she said, folding her hands behind her head. "Would you... let me read them?" 

"If you promise to keep it private. My fan letters are very special to me."

"I promise."

"I have them all right here," he said, patting his chest. "Would you like to read them now?" 

"Show me your favorites," she said. 

She grabbed his arm and gently tugged him into bed with her. He sat with his back against the wall and she climbed into his lap, which she covered with bedding first since his legs weren't exactly comfortable to sit on. His screen brought up a chunk of text which she realized was a letter. For a long while, she sat there with him, practically giggling as she periodically covered her mouth in response to what she read. He was right. There was a surprising number of extremely thirsty letters from fans who more than adored him.

"I hadn't considered you'd get fan mail like this, Path," she said. 

"I am in a unique position. Before joining the games, no one expressed any interest in me in any way. Can I ask your opinion as a human?" 

"Sure. I'll do my best."

"Do these people like me because of my unique qualities or simply because I am famous?" 

She scrolled through the pages of letters and tilted her head back and forth. What she saw in the mail was an appreciation for him specifically. Sure, the fetishists latched onto him, but only because of his uplifted qualities. There wasn't another Mark III out there like him.

"People like you because you are one of a kind. Even in the normal letters, people express how special they think you are. And to be honest, you're famous because of these qualities," she said.

"Is that why you like me?" 

"I just like you, Pathfinder. From the moment you wandered into my workshop looking for some tools. You've always been nice to me, so I've been nice in return. That's how friendship works."

"I love being your friend," he said. 

"You're such a beautiful, murderous robot, Path," she said, smiling again at him.

She had gone from essentially, and quite involuntarily, celibate and married to her job to being one text message away from having her brain melted by a lover of choice. 

With Octavio, she'd get high as hell and let him hammer on her for hours. Elliott worshiped her body, so long as she returned the favor--she had even gotten used to his dupes in bed with them. 

And then there was sweet Pathfinder, who could only focus on her since he had no way to experience sexual pleasure himself. She had been devising a way to solve that particular dilemma with her engineering knowledge, inspired by some of the suggestions she'd seen in his tawdry fan letters. Now he was sitting next to her on her sofa and she was about to present to him her solution, which felt a bit weird. 

"So, my wonderfully metal friend, you mentioned that you like the jolt you get from interfacing with beacons," she said. 

"That's true," he said. 

"Well, I dug into the files from some of those beacons that's you've used and compared to the data I have on you. And I was able to use that knowledge to make you... well, it's a bit embarrassing to say out loud," she said as she rubbed the back of her neck. "Maybe I'll just show you."

She got up and disappeared into her bedroom for a bit, then returned holding a large toolbox. She sat back down and cleared her throat as she opened the lid, revealing an extremely phallic looking device, something like a dildo with several wires and hookups braided out the back end.

"What is it?" he asked, the naiveté in his voice almost too much. 

"Stand up."

He did as instructed and she lifted the device from the box. She had designed it to notch into the gap between his legs where they met his chassis, which was where she slid it. She pulled a few tools from the box and peered around behind him, tugging a small panel open to reveal some of his wiring. There, she hooked the device into him and set the panel in the toolbox as to not lose it. 

"Can I access your code? I know it's a lot to ask, but it's a few small alterations and I can change them back before you leave," she said, looking at him. It was a little surreal to see him standing there with her questionable creation strapped onto him. 

"I trust you totally and completely," he said. 

For some reason, she blushed at the sentiment. Of all the nights he had been in her bed, making her writhe, this was the thing that made her feel a hint of shyness. She stood and put her hands on the keypad at his screen. He brought up his software for her and she poked around for a few minutes until she was satisfied with the integration. 

"How does it work?" he asked. 

Her throat had gone dry and she cleared it again while she reached down, giving the device a small squeeze. His fingers curled slightly in reaction.

"Applying pressure causes that interference you seem to enjoy. A little pressure, a little interference. More sustained pressure will eventually lead to a version of the short you experience with the beacon."

"You are a _very_ good friend," he said.

She peeled her clothes off and kicked them to the side.

"Well, I'm not totally selfless," she said, taking his hand and pulling him down with her as she sat on the sofa. 

She hooked her hands under her knees and pulled her legs up toward her chest, flashing him a full view of her pussy. He had done enough research to know what came next. He had indexed thousands of images and videos so he would be prepared to please his friend, even though he had not anticipated this.

He pushed his new addition inside of her, making her groan softly. The size and shape of the strap-on were not accidentally perfect. She had made it, after all. It was hard and sleek, without the pliable forgiveness of flesh, but conformed to her and hit all of the right places. His hands replaced hers under her knees and his hold was firmer than she expected as he began thrusting himself in and out of her. It intensified further when she squeezed her pelvic muscles.

"Does it feel good?" she asked. "Is it working?" 

"It is definitely working as you intended," he said.

She watched the code scroll by rapidly on his screen, occasionally freezing for a fraction of a second before continuing on. When the code stuttered, she noticed that his movements did as well. She couldn't help but grin at her apparent success, continuing to flex her muscles around him. There was enough enjoyment for her in simply watching him that she didn't bother with her own. She'd had plenty recently as it was and it still felt wonderful. 

He continued his thrusting for several more minutes, the hitch in his programming occurring more and more often as the seconds went by. Finally, his screen went black and he uttered a single, almost confused "Oh" before briefly slumping into her. He was heavy but had fallen in a way that wasn't uncomfortable. And only a few moments later, she felt his systems whir back to life. 

He sat up, his hand gripping the top of the sofa behind her.

"I seem to have had a system-wide error from the interference," he said. "It was _wonderful_. I've never felt anything like it before! Can we do it again?"

"Right now?" 

"I would like that very much. And this time, I won't forget to bring you to orgasm!"

His enthusiasm and lack of subtlety would take some getting used to, but his version of a refractory period had already passed, after all. One of the many bonuses of having sex with a robot, she mused. Even speed-freaks had their limitations.

"Let me tweak the code a bit. I didn't mean for you to straight-up pass out," she said. Since it was right in front of her, she sat up a bit and dug back into his code, making the necessary tweaks. She had plenty of ideas for his strength and didn't need him collapsing the moment the sensation became too great.

"Have you fixed it?" he asked as she committed the changes, which he felt go into effect immediately. 

"I'm not sure. The only way to tell is more unit testing," she said.

He untangled himself from her and stood, then grabbed her and hefted her up against him. She let out a cross between a laugh and a surprised cry, grabbing onto the bars on his shoulders. He held her effortlessly as she wrapped her legs around his waist and leaned her weight backward. She felt the blush spread down from her cheeks along her neck and across her chest, the whole thing still incredibly surreal.

They had a long night of perfecting code ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RESPAWN, HOW DARE YOU BREAK MY SWEET ROBOT'S HEART.


	7. 도촬 - Voyeur - 3rd Person POV (Crypto)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a reworked version of my previous, stand alone Crypto fic. If you read that, it's 90% the same, just adjusted to fit into this broader mess (and to align more with his overall story).
> 
> Takes place about season 5.
> 
> Tags that apply: Vaginal Sex, Blow Jobs, Sex Toys, Masturbation, Voyeurism, F/M

After every match, she found herself digging through a mound of discarded and busted munitions and armor, seeing what she could salvage. The Syndicate made bank off the games, so keeping the Legends in good gear wasn't hard. Her budget was almost unlimited, but she couldn't in good conscience let good parts go to waste.

While picking through what had been dumped in her workshop, she pulled out a few pieces she didn't immediately recognize. After gathering the foreign bits up, she set them on her workbench and sat down, pulling her magnifying goggles on. This was a nice bit of electronics, way sleeker than anything she distributed on the field. In fact, it nearly looked like a Syndicate drone.

She grabbed a hand scanner and waved it over the pieces carefully, getting as much data as she could. After pushing her goggles up onto her forehand, she turned her attention to her computer screen, studying the readouts. It felt like Syndicate tech, but was a hell of a lot sexier. Someone had made a ton of fairly impressive modifications to the thing.

If it wasn't a Syndicate drone, there was only one other person she could think of who would be using this tech out there.

"I'd like that back."

She spun in her chair to find Crypto darkening her workshop's door, his hands shoved in the pockets of his coat. He'd never actually been in before, so she was surprised to see him standing there.

"You know, up close, this looks a lot like a Syndicate drone," she said.

"Everything has a price," he said. 

He walked over and snatched the bits up from her bench. 

"Not this. This was made by someone with intimate knowledge of Syndicate specs. That shit is kept under wraps. So either you--" 

He put his hand over her mouth, giving her a look of warning. When it was clear she wasn't going to finish her sentence, he withdrew his hand and stowed the broken pieces inside his jacket.

"Let's go for a drink," he said quietly. 

She nodded and turned back to her computer, where she deleted the scans she had just performed. She'd have to do a deeper clean later depending on what he had to tell her. 

The bar was dark, loud, and not a place that cared much about the games. There were next to no promotional displays around and the place had no TVs. It was rare to go somewhere in Solace City and not find Witt's grinning face plastered all over everything. 

They sat down at a small table and after a brief exchange with the server in Korean, they had two warm glasses of mediocre beer. It seemed that in exchange for the relief from the games, the alcohol selection was a bit depressing. 

"So, you have a past with the Syndicate and intimate knowledge of its tech," she said. "I'm surprised you discarded your drone on the field."

"That was my mistake. I got sloppy," he said. "I need to know if you can keep this between you and me."

His tone changed immediately.

"What's in it for me?"

"A cut of my winnings."

"They'll find a way to trace it. Plus, you gotta win more games."

He made an annoyed noise.

"My eternal gratitude," he said. 

She took a long drink from her beer and shook her head. 

"Because you want to do the right thing,” he said as he leaned in. "The Syndicate ruined my life and they need to pay. Now, are you going to be a Syndicate shill or try being a decent human being?"

"Okay okay," she said. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Thank you," he said.

"Sure, you're welcome."

She slammed the rest of her beer and tapped the glass, looking at him expectantly. 

"At least buy me another shitty beer."

Two beers turned into several more and while he didn't get drunk often these days because it meant dropping his guard, he had anchored a certain level of security in her, even if she didn't know it. It had taken a while, but he had come to understand why the other Legends were so friendly with her. There was something disarming about her. 

"Are worried your place is being surveilled by the Syndicate?" he asked. 

"Sure, but I lead a pretty dull life," she said with a lazy shrug. "I feel bad for anyone who monitors me."

"You have Witt over fairly often. You're not worried about that?"

"Christ," she muttered, not sure whether to be angry with him for knowing that or herself for her carelessness. "Why the hell do you know that?"

"It's what I do. I'm coming over and searching your apartment."

"Setting your voyeurism aside for the moment, won't it be obvious if you remove anything? If it exists, that is."

For the first time since she laid eyes on him, he smiled. It was a self-assured smile, almost cocky.

"I don't need to remove the equipment," he said. 

She was struck by just how handsome he was. While she had registered his good looks before on a very basic level, he was so moody that she hadn't really paid much attention until now. He didn't get a lot of screen time and was usually overshadowed by his much more charismatic teammates. 

Part of it was that his style was a bit strange. His undercut looked almost as if someone had taken a hairstyle with a standard part and just buzzed off all of the hair underneath, not knowing what they were doing, but it worked on him. His modified jaw gave him a striking profile, she wondered whether she'd ever recognize what he looked like without it.

"Okay then," she said, her eyes lingering on his full lips. "But first, what the hell should I call you, because I'm not using 'Crypto'." 

"You don't like it?" 

"I dunno. It just feels dorky."

"Really?" he asked with a small amount of surprise. 

She shrugged again.

"What's that Korean word women use for older men?" she asked. 

"Ahjussi?" 

"No, the cute one."

"Oppa?" 

"Oppa," she repeated. She didn't care whether he was actually older than her or not. That wasn't the point.

His cheeks were already rosy from the alcohol, but he blushed further.

"Unless you hate it."

"It's fine," he said softly.

"Now going back how you know about who comes over to my flat."

He flagged the server, realizing he wasn't going to get out of this explanation. Maybe another round would help his case. Regardless, it didn't seem like it could hurt.

He told her he'd be over when it was least likely to draw any attention. She didn't need to be there, but she made it clear she preferred she was. He had sort of already blown his goodwill by letting it slip that he'd been watching who was coming and going from her flat.

Days went by before her kitchenette lights dimmed strangely as she stood in her bathrobe, pouring herself a cup of coffee. It was her single day of the week off and she was planning on staying home and binge watching something. The lights outright flickered, then went off completely, and then her front door opened several feet. Like a ghost, he slipped into her apartment. Enough light trickled in around her blinds for the room to not be dark. 

Without saying a word, she poured him a second cup of coffee and set it on her kitchen counter. She tried to not pay him much attention as he dug around her place, doing his thing, but he was far more interesting than the TV. He seemed to spend more time putting things in rather than taking them out. He had taken off his jacket, leaving him in a black sleeveless t-shirt and whenever he changed positions, his black hair fell in front of his eyes, causing him to constantly push it back.

After a bit, he returned to her living room and dusted one hand off on his pants, holding his cup of coffee in the other. His frame, which was typically hidden by his oversized coat, was svelte but had some muscle to it. 

"All done," he said. 

"So, how do I know you're not some pervert who just wanted to install a bunch of cameras in here?" she asked. 

She was sitting length wise on her sofa, her feet up, eating a pint of ice cream.

He gave a small, awkward laugh. 

"So I can watch you eat ice cream at 10 AM?" he asked.

"I'm a grown woman," she said. "So, am I being watched?"

"You are," he said. "In theory. There's at least a feed of you somewhere."

"Then, how's this work?" 

"I'll have access to whatever they're pulling in. Trust me. It's easy enough to fool these guys with a few well placed loops. For the next few days, keep your normal schedule. I'll do the rest."

"You _will_ be watching me."

"It's me or them. Pick one."

"At least I know you're handsome," she said.

“Keurae…,” he muttered as he wandered into her kitchen.

He blamed Elliott, adding it to the long list of things that annoyed him about the man. When Witt had asked him to run interference on the cameras in her workshop, he had set up a similar system and it was still in place. He had no reason to oblige, but when Witt offered a bounty of rare memorabilia, he couldn’t say no. He told Witt he was just going to sell it all, but in reality, it was all covertly getting sent back home to Mystik. He swapped the footage out every now and then so it didn't get stale. While he fed the Syndicate a looped feed, he could see everything that went on in her workshop for himself, including the evening in question that prompted Witt to ask him to help. 

It was Witt's fault, but he was the one who kept a recording of that particular night and failed to delete it every day.

Before he set foot in her shop to reclaim his drone, he hadn't actually met her, but he had spent enough time watching her that he almost felt like he knew her and he just couldn't help himself. She was going to get herself in trouble and he could help fix it. That's what he told himself.

He'd let his attention linger on her feed at home. She didn't seem to worry at all whether or not he was watching. The evenings were easy--she hadn't had anyone over since he'd rigged the Syndicate's surveillance equipment. The mornings were a different matter, which she spent mostly or entirely nude. He would have to refresh her footage loop often enough to avoid suspicion, but he tried to use footage that was less lascivious. Whatever goon was in charge of monitoring her shouldn't have the luxury of seeing her naked. 

She made it difficult. 

He told himself that he was protecting her, but knew he was a hypocrite when he watched. He was always anxious, preparing for the worst. It was hard to relax. But when he watched her, he himself felt a little less alone.

Her feed was up on his third monitor as he worked late one night, poking around in a Syndicate data dump. His eyes flicked up to her screen as she was getting into bed, naked. Normally, she slid under the covers and went to sleep, but tonight was different. 

She opened her nightstand's drawer and pulled out a massage wand. His fingers on his keyboard faltered as he watched her settle into her pillows and let her legs fall wide. He reached up and turned the screen off but after a few moments, he pulled the feed onto his main display. For a good minute or two, he watched her press the vibrating head of the wand against her pussy. 

There was no way she didn't understand he could possibly see this. She just didn't care. After all, the onus was on him to not watch. 

He realized his hand had wandered down to his groin and was absentmindedly grazing the erection under his pants. Feeling a twinge of guilt, he undid his fly and tugged at his pants until he could pull his now stiff cock free. His fingers caressed the underside of its head as he watched her. With his other hand, he flipped on the audio and the sound of the buzzing wand came through quietly, accompanied by her soft moans. 

She took her time, pulling the wand away several times, giving him enough time to bring himself close to climax. His hand pumped his shaft with increasing speed, his eyes devouring her. Her hand clutched her breast, squeezing it. As she did so, a long, low sound escaped her. 

"Oppa..." 

With a small gasp, he felt himself lose any control he may have had. His free hand wrapped around the arm rest of his chair as he let out a few punctuated breaths, come covering his hand. He looked down at the mess he had made, sitting back in his chair as a gentle fog filled his head. In the background, he heard her voice crescendo. His eyes drifted back to the screen and he watched her reach her own orgasm. 

She had to know.

She sat down on the old crate she kept by her front door and pulled off her boots. As she tossed them into their typical spot, she realized she wasn't alone. He wasn't exactly hiding. In fact, he was sitting on her sofa, lit only by her lamp, looking a little uncomfortable. 

"What is it now?" she asked. 

"I wanted to remind you that... ah... I can only make looped feeds out of the footage you give me. And ninety percent of your morning footage, you're quite..."

He paused. 

"Quite what?" 

"Nude."

"Pervert," she said with a grin. 

He stammered, searching for words that weren't a lie but also not incriminating.

"I don't mind," she said, getting up from the crate. "You want a drink?" 

"Yeah, sure," he said, the familiar blush spreading across his face. 

She fetched two bottles of beer from the fridge and set them on the coffee table. 

"Let me clean up. Unless you wanna watch that, too."

"No," he said quickly. 

"Don't be so fast to refuse. You'll break a girl's heart."

She left him for ten or so minutes, during which he stared at the beers for a bit, then for lack of anything else to do, popped them both open. He didn't know what he was doing here. He could have relayed that message to her another way. He didn't need to show up and wait around in her home like a creep. 

She returned, now in a matching linen top and pants. The fabric floated, lightweight and ivory in color. His eyes traced her figure. She had nothing on underneath, he knew from her daily routine. His fingers fumbled slightly as he attempted to hand her a beer, which she took as she sat next to him.

"What were you like before you took on this identity?" she asked. "I'm not looking for details. Just an overall feel."

"Nobody important," he said. "Just a man trying to get through life like everyone else. Same as you."

He turned to her, looking her straight in the eyes. 

"The Syndicate is dangerous. They're organized crime. Do you really feel comfortable working for them?" 

"They run the whole Frontier. We all work for them in some regard," she said. 

"But you work _directly_ for them. You even have a title."

She laughed and sat back, not breaking his eye contact. 

"As far as the organization is concerned, I'm nobody. I have a very specific role with just the games. I don't even get invited to the parties," she said. "Did you just come here to chastise me?"

He let out a long sigh, then leaned his elbows on his knees and lowered his head, staring at the beer in his hand dangling between his legs. Before he could apologize or defend himself, he felt her fingers on the back of his head, gently caressing his shaved head. Her body was up against his, leaning into his side.

"Let me spend the night," he said as his grip on his bottle tightened. The old him would have never been so forward, but the old him was gone and he desperately wanted her company. 

He set his beer down and grabbed her, pulling her with him back against the sofa. His mouth was on hers, kissing her with a nervous hunger. She was stunned in his arms for a moment before she returned his kiss.

After a long minute, his lips left hers but his face remained close. She could feel his breath on her skin as his fingers pressed firmly into her flesh where he held her. His lips brushed hers and his body shivered ever so slightly against hers.

"What's wrong?" she whispered. 

He shook his head. His hand ran up behind her and cradled the back of her head as he kissed her again, this time more tenderly. She slid her arms around his waist, her breasts against his chest. His heart raced through him and into her.

After a bit, her hands moved to his jeans, undoing them. He didn't protest. He wanted to be out of them more than anything--that’s why he was here, and he knew it. After a few more moments, her hands were on his cock, which was now free. She kissed him a bit more as she played with him, her fingers running along his length. He was already rock hard. 

She slipped off the sofa and onto her knees between his legs. His eyes widened as she leaned in toward him and with both hands on his erection, wrapped her lips around his head. Her tongue curled around it, earning a long moan from him.

He pulled his shirt up his stomach and rested his hand on her head, watching her slowly take him into her mouth, the forefinger and thumb of one hand ringed around the base of his cock. Another much louder moan escaped him as her head began bobbing up and down. He let the sensation overtake him, forgetting about everything else for a moment. Right now, there was only this.

When he felt himself near climax, he grabbed her hand, trying to pry her fingers free.

"Stop, please," he muttered. "I don't want to finish. Not yet."

She let him loose from her mouth, looking up at him. Her hands ran along the tops of his thighs and up over his abdomen, her fingers tracing the slight curves of his muscles.

"If you're going to spend the night, I promise you'll have another opportunity to come," she said with a grin. "Let me finish what I started."

He touched her jaw gently. She wasn't wrong, but he had imagined something more elaborate those nights he lay in bed, fantasizing about being with her. While he was busy overthinking the situation, she ran her tongue up along the underside of his rigid cock, her eyes locked with his. 

"Okay," he said, his voice strained and barely audible. 

She plunged him back into her mouth, his entire length sliding past her lips until they hit his skin. He gripped her hair as she repeated the motion, deep throating him over and over again with increasing speed. Her tongue sent jolts through him as it danced along his shaft.

His grasp tightened on her head and he pushed himself up into her mouth, now panting. He let out a groan and then another as he rose up into her, releasing warmth into the back of her mouth. He gasped one last time and let his body fall back into the sofa, his hands drifting down to his sides. 

She sat up and coughed twice, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. An abandoned beer helped her wash the taste away and she finished it for good measure. She watched him as she took several drinks--his eyes were closed and his body was completely at ease. 

She stood and brushed his black hair from his face. He was somewhere else at the moment and bothering him seemed rude. So she let him be. When she checked on him a few minutes later, she found him asleep. He hadn't moved, still exposed. She pulled a blanket over him, sat down in a chair nearby, and pulled her mobile out to order some food.

By the time delivery arrived, he'd been asleep for forty minutes. He stirred when she set several containers on the coffee table. His eyes drifted open and he looked down at himself. Panic crossed his face as he clutched the blanket, then reached underneath it. 

"Oh my god. I'm sorry," he said as he redid his jeans and sat up. "I can't believe I just fell asleep."

She smiled and sat down next to him. 

"I can. You're so on edge all the damn time," she said. "You can make it up to me later tonight."

She cuddled up to him, pulled the blanket over her lap, and occupied herself with her mobile. He was quiet for a while, occasionally looking down at her where she was nestled into his side. Eventually, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. He didn't say much, worried he might spoil the mood. His fingers trailed up to the hair at the back of her neck and toyed with it. She hummed happily.

"I want to be honest with you," he said.

"About what?" she asked.

"I haven't... been with many people. I don't have much experience."

She looked at him, her upward gaze making him weak and he felt desire begin to well within him again. Another smile spread across her face, the opposite reaction of what he feared.

"I don't mind at all," she said.

He leaned down and kissed her again. Their hands were on each other's bodies under the blanket as if they'd never had another chance. She climbed up onto his lap, straddling him as they continued. His hands found her breasts, bare under her shirt, squeezing them firmly, his thumbs passing back and forth over her nipples.

She paused kissing him for a moment, her fingertips touching the underside of his modified jaw. They trailed down the smooth surface along his neck, brushing against the collection of computer keys around his neck. It was hard to believe he had so little experience. He was gorgeous and had the entire "mysterious hacker" thing going for him, after all. But the way he responded to her affection was a decent enough hint that he hadn't spent a lot of time pursuing romance.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Just enjoying the view," she said, then tugged on his shirt.

He allowed her to pull it off of him and once free, he did the same to her. His gaze settled on her breasts as she admired his abs.

"You're very beautiful," he said. 

"I could say the same for you."

They met in a kiss again, managing to pull the rest of their clothes off. His cock was again in her hands and she rubbed it up against her clit, paralyzing him almost completely. His hands grasped her hips, unable to do anything else. 

He groaned as she shifted her weight, sliding him into her inch by inch. Once he was fully in her, she squeezed him and watched his face, his eyes closed as he was overcome by the feeling. She rested her hands on his shoulders and began rocking up and down on his lap.

"Uwa," he hissed between his teeth, pressing his head back into the top of the sofa, his short fingernails digging into her. "Slow down."

She paused, leaning back from him, giving him a good view of the base of his cock disappearing into her. He moved a hand down, his thumb pressing against her clit. He rubbed it in an inelegant circle and it quickly became clear he didn't really know what he was doing. She was patient, but when he didn't get the reaction he had hoped for, he withdrew his hand. 

"I have an idea," he said, moving her from his lap. 

He took her hand and led her into her room, where he pulled her into her bed, kissing her along the way. 

The old him definitely would have never had the nerve to do any of this. 

After a bit, he leaned away and reached his arm out across the bed. She watched as he pulled the nightstand drawer open and grabbed the wand from inside.

"How did you know that was there?" she asked in feigned shock.

The blush spread from his face down his neck as he rolled back into her.

"A lucky guess," he said. 

He studied the wand for a moment, then lowered it to her pussy, sliding the head up against her lips. He pushed the button and it came to life, vibrating at a low speed. She nestled into her pillows and made a few small, happy sounds. His brown eyes moved back and forth from the wand to her face. He let it run on low for a bit before switching it over to a higher speed. 

"Fuck," she muttered, surprised by the change

He pressed his groin into her upper leg, grinding his erection against her. Leaning in, he took her nipple into his mouth. It quickly grew firm from his attention and he ran his tongue along the bud.

"Oppa," she mewed.

He sat back up to get a better view. With another press of a button, he turned the wand up to high and he watched as the vibration coursed through her labia. She let out a much louder noise this time with the change and she spread her legs wider, granting the wand full access to her clit. 

"Tae Joon," he said. 

"Wha-what?" 

"It's my name. Say it," he said. 

She did as he asked, repeating the name as the stimulation altered between too much and just not enough. He stroked his cock as he watched her oscillate with pleasure, the sound of his name making it jump with excitement. Her labia shone in the soft bedroom light--the wetness was extremely inviting and it was easy enough to imagine plunging himself into her.

After about a minute, she grasped the bed covers and pushed her hips up into the air. The sound she made when she came was primal, which devolved into a series of loud whimpers. He pressed the wand against her even harder, which he recognized was probably too much stimulation but he couldn't resist. She made a new series of sounds that were punctuated by gasps.

"N-no more," she begged. 

After a few more moments, he pulled the wand away and her body collapsed. She was still in the throes of orgasm when he crawled between her legs and sunk himself into her. His body molded to hers as her pelvic muscles spasmed around his cock, lighting him up with pleasure. He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her up into him. She tipped her head back into the pillows, kissing down her neck as he began thrusting.

"Oh my god, Tae Joon," she groaned.

It was almost too much for him, hearing his name. 

"I'm not going to last much longer," he muttered into her skin. 

"I don't care," she said, her voice raspy. "Just fuck me." 

He buried his face into her shoulder, his breathing sporadic as he growled in fragmented Korean. She felt all of the muscles in his body go stiff as he came inside her, his arms around her tightening. He then collapsed onto her and inhaled sharply, his body shaking softly.

"Sorry," he muttered as he tried to sit up.

She grabbed his arms and guided him into bed next to her where he let out a long satisfied sigh.

"I don't work tomorrow, so we can do this as many times as we want," she said.

"Really?" he muttered. "I won't fall asleep this time." 

They were quiet for a long time, staring at the ceiling before she cleared her throat and turned to him.

"You uh... promise not to do anything untoward with whatever footage you end up getting of us? Or of me and, you know... whoever," she said, not feeling any need to name names.

"Depends on whether or not I'll need to blackmail any of you," he said with a smirk.

She gave him a wide-eyed look that made him chuckle. He waved his hand, trying to get her to stand down. She continued to stare at him, getting the distinct impression that a part of him wasn't joking. _Everything has a price_ , he had told her.

"Hold on," she said, getting out of bed. 

She left the room and returned with her mobile, standing a foot away from the bed. He watched her with a slightly puzzled expression, folding his arms behind his head. She was searching for something, tapping on her screen, her eyes narrowed. After a few moments, she held her mobile up close to her face, then looked at him, then back to her screen. She did this a few times before flipping the handset around.

"Park Tae Joon, you're very wanted by the Syndicate, aren't you?" she asked.

She had his wanted photo pulled up.

"That's not me," he said, trying to pull off a casual laugh.

"Like hell it's not. I thought that name was familiar. You did a good job changing your appearance, but this is definitely you. So. How about that promise?" she asked, sitting back down on the bed.

"You'd really turn me in?" he asked.

"You'd really do something to hurt me with surveillance footage?"

"No. I promise," he said. “ _Jinjja y_ _agsoghae_ _._ ”

"Then, I don't know who this person is," she said, closing the image on her phone. "It's a common name, after all. Besides, he looks like a huge fucking nerd. The guy in my bed is way hotter."

He regarded her for a long moment.

"I won't violate your trust if you don't violate mine," she said, lying back down next to him. "Besides, you did all this to protect me, didn't you?"

"And to see you nude," he said, an impish smile on his face.


	8. An Ounce of Discretion - 3rd Person POV (Mirage)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solace City's third-place Sexist Man is feeling down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter happens after Loba joins the games, but before Rampart is introduced. Witt seems to be running low on money (apparently from supporting his mother and her medical condition).
> 
> Tags that apply: F/M, Vaginal Sex, Fingering, Narcissism, Fluuuuuuuuuuuuffffff

She doomscrolled through a long list of video thumbnails, looking for something to watch, anything at all. She had already watched everything she was interested in lately since she'd been home after work so much. Just like that, all of the attention she'd been getting dried up. Everyone seemed to have gone through some sort of collective shit the moment the creepy simulacrum showed up. She didn't blame them--why he was in the games at all didn't make sense. That spot had been for Forge, and now the Syndicate was letting his murderer take his place? Seemed really fucking weird.

And just when she'd gotten a handle on the mess the Leviathans had made to King's Canyon, some maniac sunk Skull Town right into the ocean. She wasn't convinced the Syndicate didn't know more, but that was all above her pay grade. The Syndicate provided very well and she didn't need to hemorrhage internally publicly for her money, just work long hours for games she knew were fixed... 

Well, she didn't _know_ , but a person didn't work this close to the games and not realize a certain amount. She tried not to care too much, but did her best to make it seem as honest as possible. In whatever way the games were rigged were way more advanced than the mags that got stuck in the particular flatline on her workbench back in her shop.

She collapsed onto her side on the sofa, bringing her tablet with her. She had about fourteen hours to herself before she had to be back at work, six of which she'd use to sleep. Four months ago, she was up to her neck in Legend dick and now she was staring at her ceiling, wondering if it'd be too desperate to just go pick someone up at the bar. Her bar had invariably been set so high, the idea of sleeping with a stranger, just some nobody, seemed almost like an insult. She rested her tablet on her face--she felt like an idiot. 

The chime to her flat's door rang, startling the hell out of her. She sat up slightly and looked over the top of her sofa at her front door. It was only 1600, but she wasn't expecting anyone, not even food. As she got up and put her hand on the door, her heart half hoped for another stupid Elliott ploy. But she hadn't heard from him for weeks. 

If she was lucky, it was her neighbor come to bring her leftovers. 

She was shocked to see that it was in fact Elliott himself standing on the other side of her door, his hands shoved in the pockets of his tight black jeans, the hood of his fitted sweatshirt pulled up over his head. His shoulders were hunched, his posture lacking its usual air of confidence.

"Holy shit. Hey stranger," she said. "What are you doing on this side of the train tracks?"

"Yeah uh... hey. Uh... Can I come in?" he asked, his brown eyes flicking up to hers.

"Of course," she said. "You need anything?"

"Nah. I mean..."

He let himself in, slipping past her as she held the door open, and meandered around her living room for a bit, touching her things here and there. She hadn't been expecting company, so it wasn't in the state she might have liked had she known he was going to visit, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed like he was still outside, maybe even still down the hall as he leaned on the back of her sofa.

"It's nice to see you," he said. "Been awhile, right?"

"Shit's been pretty weird. You've all had your hands full, haven't you?" she asked. "What, two new contenders now? Revenant and Loba?"

She fetched two beers from the kitchen as she spoke and sat back down on the sofa, patting the spot next to her. He obliged, sinking down into the cushions, his knees falling wide as he cracked his can open. He didn't drink it though; he just sat with it, looking around her flat.

"Not a bad place," he said. 

He hadn’t acknowledged her question, but she didn’t mind in the least. If he didn’t want to talk about work, she didn’t want to either.

"Nothing like yours."

"Yeah," he said with a long sigh. "About that. I had to downsize. Which is why I haven't had you over. You know. All the moving, murderous synths, elaborate betrayals... you talk to Oc lately?"

"No, he hasn't replied to any of my messages."

"Something's got him and Ajay freaked the fuck out."

"He hasn't told me shit, but I don't expect him to," she said. "I just deal with the guns."

"Right right. You do worry about us, though? I mean, you worry about me, right?"

He was insufferable. He had left her out in the cold for this long and now he showed up looking for her sympathy. She didn't know whether to smack him upside the head or wrap an arm around his shoulder. She settled for something in between--she slapped his bicep with a tut of her tongue and then leaned into him. It was apparently the response he wanted, because he immediately slipped his arm around her waist, tugging her tighter into his side.

"So you had to give up your nice place?" she asked, nestling into his form.

"Yeah. Money's tight. I've had to move back into the space above the bar," he said.

"You've won a lot of matches recently, Elliott. How can money possibly be tight?" she asked.

"I just have... a lot of expendich... expendi...expen... I have a lot of bills to pay," he said. 

"You're not in trouble, are you?" 

"Baby, I _am_ trouble," he said.

He ducked his head and kissed her in a clear attempt to end the conversation. She allowed it, having long since missed his company. He smelled just as nice as ever, but his lips were just a little rough, his skin a little dry. His beard was slightly less well-kept, not as immaculately shaped as normal. All of the little details might go unnoticed by anyone else, but she had spent enough time lying in his bed, worshipping at his altar to not notice them.

"You're a mess," she said when their lips parted.

"Is it that obvious? Crap. I thought I was keeping my shit together pretty well."

He ran his hand through his hair, his smile tinged with just enough timidity that she was at a loss for what to do. Normally, she'd just give him a hard time for his attitude, but the guy was really starting to worry her. He must have seen it on her face, too, because his demeanor changed immediately.

"Hey whoa, am I stressing you out? I was just messin' with you. Don't worry about it. I'm a grown man, I can take care of myself," he said. "I just didn't want to have to drag you to the bar, you know--it'd be weird for you to drink there, right? Working for the games and all. I'm not even unpacked. Plus it looks like shit compared to my last place."

"I'm sure all the other girls don't care," she said.

He snorted.

"Hey baby, you wanna go upstairs and bang on a mattress laid over four boxes of holo equipment?" he said, hitching his thumb up over his shoulder.

"You _are_ a mess."

"But a damned good looking one. Right?"

She grasped the loose fabric of his sweatshirt in her free hand and pulled him back into a kiss. After a few moments, she took their beers and lobbed them into the tiled kitchen, where she could deal with them later, which got a surprised laugh out of him.

"Alright, damn," he said. 

She swung her leg over him and sat on his lap. The smile that crossed his face was now satisfied, his entire face much more relaxed. He rested his hands on her hips, his finger brushing her skin up under the hem of her shirt.

"I missed you, you ridiculous, beautiful man," she said.

"I wouldn't mind if you went into details. You know. About the beautiful part."

"Elliott."

"Too much?"

She tugged at his sweatshirt, pulling it up over his head. In perfect response, he shook his brown curls back into place while cracking a perfect grin. She cupped his jaw in her hands and ran her thumbs over his short beard.

"Third place, my ass," she said. "I've seen you nude and you are easily Solace City's sexiest man."

"I was robbed! Can you believe it?"

He pushed his face into her hand and kissed her palm while his own crept up her sides, sending small jolts up and down her spine. His hands found her breasts and he gently pinched her nipples until they were firm. She let go of his face and pulled her own shirt off, looking down at his hands on her body.

"Unbelievable," she muttered. "A travesty. I mean, look at these exquisite brown eyes. And these perfect curls. Have they even seen this jawline?"

"Slow down," he said. "I gotta get my pants off."

Her hands were on his belt buckle, undoing it, along with his jeans, before he had a chance. Reluctantly, he pulled his hands away to tug his jeans down past his knees, freeing his erection. He then snagged the tops of her pants, pulling at them until she acquiesced. She stood and removed them, then did him a favor and untied his boots and peeled the rest of his clothing off. She didn't get back onto his lap until the two of them were fully naked.

"Where were we?" he asked as he leaned back into her sofa, stroking his cock idly, his eyes on her figure.

"Your jawline," she said. "But I also love your wonderfully high cheekbones."

She leaned in and kissed the scar carved into his right cheek, following it back to his ear. He moaned as she nibbled on his earlobe, the fingertips of her hand grazing across his hip. Her mouth moved to his neck and she squeezed his waist with both hands.

"Why did I wait so long?" he whispered so quietly that she was sure she wasn't meant to respond.

"Pride," she mumbled into his warm skin.

"Who needs it?"

Her hands ran up along his chest, then back down over his abdomen, delighting in all of the ridges made by his muscles under his chest hair. She kissed the underside of his chin for a moment before sitting back and admiring him again. He looked completely different than the man who had shown up at her doorstep. He now looked incredibly pleased, whether with her, with himself, with the situation, she didn't know. It didn't matter.

"I do not have enough degrees on my wall to tackle the topic of your pride, Elliott Witt."

"You just deal with the guns, I know, I know. Hey, I got a gu--"

"Don't be tacky."

"You ask too much," he said, flipping her on her back onto the sofa, eliciting a surprised cry from her. There wasn't much room and their limbs were in danger of dangling awkwardly, but he crawled between her legs and leaned over her, the look on his face having grown devious.

"What?" she asked.

"Wait. You mentioned you haven't heard from Oc?" he asked.

"Sort of a weird time to ask that question, but... yeah. Also, welcome to the conversation five minutes ago. Keep up."

"And I know for a fact that the robot's been busy lately," he said slowly, a grin spreading across his face. "Not sure what he's been up to, though."

"You know about that?"

"Do I know about that? Oh-ho-ho do I ever know _about that._ I'm his best friend, you know."

"Christ. Okay, what's your point?"

"You're just as hard up as I am," he said with absolute glee.

He sprung off the sofa and grabbed her wrist, hauling her up with him and then made his way through her flat until he found her bedroom--it didn't take long, she only had the one. Her computer's monitor was the only light in the room, but it was enough for him to push her onto the bed before fumbling around in the dark for the proper lights. She watched him struggle as she lit a half-smoked joint left on her nightstand. Her flat was much older than his place had been, but she had been by his bar. It wasn't fancy. It couldn't be much newer than this place.

"Troubles?" she asked.

"Nope, everything's... fine," he said. 

She didn't mind. She had enough light to enjoy the view of his delightfully round ass, appreciating that whatever his fitness routine was, it had given him one hell of a backside.

With a triumphant "aha!", he finally found the controls for the lights and turned them on, then looked back at her where she sat crossed-legged at the head of her bed, taking lazy drags from her joint. He held his arms out at his sides, as if the act of turning on the lights was worthy of praise. His fit physique was punctuated by his impressive erection, a sight she had missed quite a bit.

She clapped lightly.

"And for my next act, I'm going to rub the hell out of your clit," he said, giving her one finger gun after another before sliding onto her bed.

She squealed in delight as he tackled her again, pinning her to her bed with his body. She barely managed to put her joint out before he had her immobilized, holding her arms down. His legs tangled with hers as he pressed his lower body against her. She wasn't sure he was actually going to make good on his threat at this rate.

"Hey babe," he said.

"Yes, handsome?"

His face was maybe ten inches away, his soft brown curls dangling toward her. The way he looked at her made her feel helpless, he was so damn intoxicating. He let go of one of her arms and slid his hand down between them, his fingers finding her clit immediately. Sure, it had been several months, but he remembered everything about her body.

"What else do you like about me?" he asked. 

"You're impossible," she said.

His laugh, along with his kiss, was earnest and warm. His fingers continued the entire time, pressing into her swollen clit. She pushed her leg wide for him, whimpering occasionally into the kiss as he changed speed or direction.

"Well?" he asked, his voice low and full of arousal. "What did you miss the most about me?"

"Elliott," she whispered.

"Don't be shy."

"The way you smell."

"That can't be it," he said, his fingers slowing to a crawl of a pace. "Come on. Did you lie in this bed and have fantasies about me?"

"Did you lie in _your bed_ and have fantasies about _me_?" she asked.

"Oh yeah. All sorts of weird ones you don't even want to know about. Like, I probably spent way too much time imagining what you did with the robot."

" _Elliott_."

He flashed her another grin that may have come across as cheesy to anyone else as he locked her gaze with his, but she found it so incredibly charming. She pushed her hips up against his hand, but he withdrew it completely, tapping her inner thigh gently.

"Flatter me," he said.

"You've heard it all before."

"Not for awhile."

"Whose fault is that?" she asked.

"Geez okay, yeah. It's been a rough few months. Maybe a guy just wants to hear a few nice things every now and then about himself," he said.

"You're fucking beautiful, you've got a great body, and your dick is amazing," she said.

He took his weight off of her and sat up at her side, pleased enough with her series of blunt compliments. She _had_ been laying them on him since he arrived, he had actually noticed. So instead of harassing her for more, he slid his fingers back along her labia, around her clit before pressing into it once again. He didn't hold back. The intensity of his attention surprised her, a series of nearly incomprehensible curses escaping her as she reached out and grasped at him.

The months hadn't made him rusty. It wasn't long before she was panting, her back arched off the bed as her body flooded with heat. She pulled his hand away when he didn't stop, clutching his wrist tightly. When the feeling of a thousand pinpricks began to fade from her arms and legs, she blinked her eyes hard several times before looking up at him.

"You _did_ miss me," he said.

"Of course I did," she replied, slapping at him lightly.

He rolled into the blankets with her and kissed her briefly before pulling her on top of him, wrangling her until she was straddling his waist, his erection nestled up against her ass. He then piled her pillows under his head and shoulders, propping himself up. 

"Your place is fine and all but there's one major oversight," he said.

"Not enough mirrors," 

"Not enough mirro--hey, yeah. You're good."

With a smirk, she lifted her weight and moved back a few inches, sitting up high on her knees. She took his cock in one hand and lowered herself just enough to rub his head against her clit. She was still sensitive from her own orgasm, but she didn’t want to slow down. He let out a moan as his nerve endings lit up.

"Yep, it has been too long," he said, his eyes trained on her grip.

Though she didn't say so out loud, she agreed. Not seeing any sense in waiting, she pushed his head into her and took the first inches of him, her tongue pushing up against the roof of her mouth as she made a small, pleased noise. He sputtered, no words coming to him for the first time in a long while.

She began rolling her hips down and forward, pushing him into her and then sliding him back out. His silence continued for another minute as he focused on just how wonderful she felt. She was enjoying his temporary loss for words, an occurrence rare enough that one had to take pride in it.

"Babe, wait, hold on," he said finally, his hand on her forearm.

"What?" she asked, pausing.

"This feels great and all but I can't see anything."

"God damnit, Witt."

"I'll do all the work, I got this. Just uh... lean back a little," he said as he sat up on his elbows. He pulled his knees up, pushing his feet into the bed. 

She did as he asked, her hands finding his thighs behind her, resting a bit of her weight on them. The moment she seemed settled, he began thrusting himself up into her, his pace slow to start, his movement fluid. In a matter of moments, he seemed hypnotized by it, his brown eyes locked on the sight of himself moving in and out of her. 

She couldn't see what he saw, not without his wall of mirrors, but watching his face was a nice enough alternative. His curls bounced gently with his movements, his eyes occasionally narrowing as he gritted his teeth. Eventually, his gaze drifted up along her body until their eyes met once again.

"We look damn good," he said, slowing his thrusts, putting just enough force behind each to make her breasts bounce. "Especially you, gorgeous."

Before she could respond, he grabbed her by the hips and tipped her backwards, pulling his legs out from underneath her. He was leaning over her again in an instant, pushing her knees back toward her head until her pelvis tipped upward. Her groan filled the room as he sank all of himself into her. There was no hesitation before he began pummeling her, the months having been just a little _too_ long. His fingers dug into her skin, his breaths still steady but now deeper.

"Where?" he practically demanded after several minutes.

"Anywhere." Her reply came between gasps.

"F-fuck."

With that, he dropped her legs and pulled himself out of her, trying to aim his erection at her stomach, but it was too late. Instead, he managed to come across her inner thigh and up along her lower hip as he let out a strained moan, though he really wasn't paying attention to where any of it went. He then sat back slowly and stared at nothing in particular, his hands resting on her. When reality caught up with him, he looked down at her and gave her a much sleepier grin.

"Sorry about that," he said.

He got up out of bed and disappeared for a minute, returning with a towel from her bathroom. When she reached out for it, he held it back, then sat down to clean up the mess he had made.

"Still a gentleman," she said.

"That's me. I'll even cook you dinner. And _then_ we can do all that yab-yum stuff you enjoy," he said.

"You make me sound strange for liking sex where our bodies touch," she said with a laugh.

"You can't fool me. I know you liked my mirrors almost as much as I do. I have a surplus now--you want some of them? I could put them up for you."

"Sure, if it means you'll come over again," she said, finally sitting up.

He swept her into his arms with a level of unnecessary flair and engulfed her in a kiss. She gave into the gesture, circling her arms around his neck. It was in these ridiculous moments that she could feel the real Elliott underneath the front he kept up--melodramatic, vain, but still wildly unsure. 

Her fingers ran along the soft, short hair on the back of his head as the overblown passion of his kiss gave way to something gentler. After a bit, he pressed his face into the side of her head and hummed a soft sigh. 

"I can probably get six panels up on your ceiling."

" _Elliott_.”


	9. A Pound of Witt - 3rd Person POV (Mirage & Loba)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We love our disaster bis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With two women, it was starting to get confusing, so the female lead stand-in character here is referred to as "the chief" (for her work title) in order to clarify. Copy/paste into your own text editor and replace all instances of "the chief" and "the chief's" with whatever name you like. 
> 
> (◠﹏⊙)
> 
> Tags that apply: Threesome - F/F/M, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys

"You met Loba yet?" Elliott asked as he wandered back into her bedroom with two plates of food, wearing nothing but a black apron that read "Kiss the Cook" in large, white script. She didn't even know where he found it, she wasn't aware she owned such a thing.

She was still nestled in bed. It was early yet and she had time before she needed to be at work. He had spent the night and woke her up in about the most pleasant way possible: lazy morning sex followed now by breakfast in bed.

"No, she definitely has her own agenda. I don't really talk much with the newer Legends. Other than Oc and Natalie."

She set her mobile down and took the plate of bacon and eggs from him as he got back into bed with her. She'd known Natalie for a while now, since her father had worked on the games. Different area and all, but their paths had crossed plenty. She was happy to see her join the games. It gave her someone new to cheer for and honestly, it helped blur that line for her a little.

"Speaking of, did you know Crypto is a year _older_ than me?" he asked as he snapped into his bacon. "He calls _me_ old man." 

"Better skin care routine, I guess," she said, giving him a sly smile.

"Damn okay, shots fired."

"Ask him for some tips on your next jump together. Maybe he has BB cream recommendations."

"You've really been digging through my bathroom drawers, huh?" he asked. 

"I don't give a shit how much product you use to stay pretty."

"Go on about me being pretty."

She patted his cheek.

"I gotta get ready for work," she said. 

"You need help in the shower?" he asked.

"I have to get clean, Witt."

Once she was done, she leaned in and kissed him, letting her lips linger. If she stayed too long, she was worried he'd distract her, but it was hard to pull away. He was a disaster, but he was one hell of a disaster. 

"Call in sick. I can open the bar later. Or not at all."

"Call in sick, he says."

She handed him her plate and slid out of bed. 

"Just send me nudes all day," she said, flipping a blanket up at him as she left. "There's an extra keycard in my desk."

"H-how many of us have copies now?" he asked, his tone conveying the fact he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

She paused in the doorway, tilting her head as she turned to look at him where he sat. He looked a little helpless. She was sure he didn't do it on purpose, he wasn't manipulative. Whatever puppy dog act he had was legit.

"I rekeyed the place last month, so if you take it... just you," she said, then shot him several finger guns before finally leaving for the bathroom.

"Hey, that's my thing," he called after her.

By the time she got dressed and ready, he was pulling his own boots on by the door, her keycard between his teeth. The sight gave her a little extra energy to go with the cup of coffee she had in hand. He stood up straight and adjusted everything with a small shake, then slipped her card into his front pocket. 

"This is still an open situation, yeah?" he asked. 

"Yeah, Elliott. I wouldn't want to cramp your style," she replied.

"You're a doll," he said. "I'll text ya." 

"Sure sure."

He gave her an exuberant kiss on the cheek before making his exit. She stood, staring at her front door long after it had closed behind him, sipping her coffee, wondering whether he'd actually text her. Eventually, she decided that it didn't matter and got on with her day.

* * *

Her skills often went to waste because the Syndicate rarely wanted anything new for the games, but they'd occasionally send requests for non-standard modifications as the seasons went by. Anyone who spent any time in the militia or just out in the Frontier was familiar with the munitions used in the games, but with enough changes, it made predictions difficult. She supposed that was the point. But none of these changes were secret from the Legends. They were all invited to come in and test the changes before a match. 

She was pouring over a set of requests when her mobile vibrated on the tabletop nearby. She regarded it, her lips pursed, before pulling it over and unlocking it. A multimedia message had come in from Witt. He was full of surprises lately.

With her head propped up in one hand, she used the other to pull open the message. There was no text, just a photo of about six Elliotts, all nude, caught in some attempt to look cool or alluring. She could see a wall of still-packed boxes off to the side. He'd managed to set up his emitters in lieu of nearly everything else because of course he had.

"Must be something good, because that's a hell of a grin."

She clicked her mobile off immediately and looked up, barely recognizing the voice as someone she had yet to chat with face to face. Loba had entered her shop and was striding toward her, her hip sway so pronounced that it was damn near memorizing.

"What brings you in?" she asked.

"The boys told me you've got a testing range. I'm curious. Do you have a peacekeeper here I can test?" Loba asked as she looked around the workshop.

She knew exactly what this was about. Loba had gotten a fully kitted out peacekeeper from a care package late in the last game and hadn't landed a single shot with it. To be fair, she also found it suspicious. The gun didn't look like it was behaving properly. These were the little ways the games were fixed--drop a care package directly on a team with a weapon too good to resist only to be mysteriously betrayed by it. She couldn't say that out loud, though. Not here. 

"Sure. Right in back. When you're done, let me know."

"Oh, I will," Loba said before gliding away, her two long braids swinging behind her like pendulums.

She forgot about her phone for a moment as she watched Loba go. It was the sound of the shotgun that finally shook her loose from wherever she had mentally drifted of to and she flipped her mobile back on. Knowing Elliott, he was probably midway through a crisis since she hadn't sent a response yet.

 _One of each, please_ , she replied and shook her head as she looked at the photo one last time.

She returned to work, or at least tried as her mobile buzzed several more times. While tempted to take a look, the firing range grew quiet and Loba returned, her face dark. All she could do was sigh and sit back in her chair.

"Not here," she mouthed, whispering ever so faintly.

"I'll get your number from Witt," Loba replied, her eyes narrowed.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course not."

Once Loba was gone, she grabbed her mobile and got up. She needed a break and was long overdue for lunch. Mostly, she just needed to get away from the premises. She treated herself to some ramyeon from a small place nearby and pulled open Witt's messages.

She had to hand it to him--where most guys would just send pictures of their dicks, he put in the effort to take nice, full body nudes. His vanity had its upsides. And every reply she sent resulted in more. If this was how he was spending his day, she was a little jealous.

Thanks to his distraction, the day went by fairly quickly and sometime around 1900, she got a message from an unknown number.

_Just come to Witt's._

Was there really any point in discretion anymore? It seemed like a waste after what had happened in her own workshop, after all. There was no way her employer didn't know if they didn't want to. As long as it didn't interfere with her job seemed to be the key factor, and she certainly wasn't the one rigging the weapons. That happened after they left her hands.

Resigning herself to the inevitable, she simply took the metro straight from work to the Paradise Lounge. She had been there ages ago on an invite from Elliott when he first tried to flirt with her. She had shut him down, worried about her job at the time. She walked in now with a much different attitude. 

"Hey!" Elliott said from behind the bar in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Loba was sitting alone in the back with a bottle of wine and two glasses, waiting. The place was otherwise empty. She pointed at the bar's sole occupant.

"Loba asked me to come."

"Ohhh ho, so is this how tonight is going to--" 

"Stuff it, Witt," Loba called from across the room.

"I'll catch up with you, handsome," she said, then made her way over to Loba, who was already pouring her some wine. 

"So tell me. Was that shotgun absolutely fucked up? Because it couldn't have been me."

"What do you want me to tell you? That the games are rigged?" she said. "If it makes you feel better, I didn't jack that peacekeeper up. That's above me."

Loba laughed a genuine, cheerful laugh, which caught her off guard, then clinked their glasses together. The thief's demeanor changed completely, melting from stand-offish to something much warmer, something almost inviting.

"It's just a job, isn't it? I suppose we all need to get by," Loba said. "Well, I've changed my mind. I like you. You're straight to the point. I wasn't sure what to expect from Witt's girlfriend--" 

"Not his girlfriend," she said.

"Of course you aren't. You're nobody's girlfriend," Loba said with a wink. "But you're doing the poor man a charity."

"He just needs a lot of attention," she said as she downed her first glass of wine, glancing over at him where he stood wiping out already clean glasses, trying not to blatantly stare at them.

He was failing.

"You need more time with the girls," Loba said. "Why don't you and I get to know each other. Maybe we could be girlfriends."

The chief paused and gave Loba a long look, then held out her wine glass for a refill. She had no idea why this gorgeous woman was flirting with her. Loba wasn't worried about her reputation in the same way Octavio or Elliott were, which had been a major factor in why they'd ever been intimate--no one benefited from making their rendezvous public. And while the chief was confident in her appearance and proud of her own body, the Legends were... the Legends.

"Sure. Just don't think it means I'm going to be a treasure trove of Syndicate information," she said.

"Darling, I'll just be happy if you tell me when I've been fucked over in a match. Also, you have lovely eyes," Loba said, filling her glass.

"You have lovely... everything," she replied. 

Loba laughed again, the sound filling the bar.

* * *

Her new friend made it a habit of inviting her to the Paradise Lounge for wine after work about once a week or so. The later she got there, the busier it was. When there happened to be a crowd, she got to enjoy an entirely new experience: watching Elliott try to flirt. At first, he seemed to do well--he was handsome and famous enough to grab anyone's attention. But as the minutes went by, she could see the party with whom he was chatting slowly start to disengage.

"How can he be so bad at this?" she asked as they watched from their usual spot.

"Looks can only get you so far," Loba said. “He tries too hard. You of all people should know that."

The chief leaned on the table and swirled the wine in her glass idly, thinking back to all those months ago when the man would come into her workshop to half test the modifications to the weapons and half bother her. She remembered how obnoxious he could be, but she was forced to endure his company over a long enough period of time that she got to know him bit by bit. She was sure that despite the shit the other Legends gave him, they largely felt similarly. She had seen it here and there. In fact, they were a much tighter group than the public realized.

"You might be the only woman who has spent more than ten minutes with him that looks at him like that," Loba said, smiling in a way that told her there was more going on in the woman's mind than she would let on.

The bar slowly emptied out as the night wore on, leaving just the three of them sometime in the early hours of the morning. She had tried to head home several times, but Loba kept her, especially once she let it slip that she was taking the morning off the next day.

"Elliott, be a dear and do me a favor," Loba said, standing and pulling her up as well.

"What could you possibly want?" he asked with a flick of his hair. "Besides me."

"Go lock the front door and then take all of your clothes off," Loba said, tugging her newfound friend along behind her to an unoccupied lounge sofa.

"Wait, what?" Elliot asked.

"What?" the chief asked, nearly in unison.

"You too, darling," Loba said.

Not wanting to miss an opportunity, Elliott rushed to the bar's front door and engaged all of the locks, then turned back to the women, discovering that Loba had already ensnared the chief in a kiss, arms wrapped around her waist. She wasn't struggling--in fact, after a brief moment of what appeared to be surprise, she returned Loba's kiss, which was firm, nearly domineering, but at the same time, had far more finesse than that any of her male counterparts.

He pulled his shirt over his head as he approached them, hardly believing his luck. When he drew close enough, Loba looked at him in such a way that made him pause.

"Finish and sit down," she commanded, pointing to the sofa.

As he struggled with his trousers, Loba slid her hands up under the chief's shirt, finding her breasts. She squeezed them gently, smiling from ear to ear. Without another word, she sat the chief down on the sofa next to Elliott and began removing her clothing, her hands running along any newly exposed skin. The chief let out small sounds that were a mixture of surprise and pleasure as Loba groped her hips and thighs.

"What about you?" Elliott asked.

"Shut up Witt," Loba said, her light brown eyes narrowing as they shifted toward him.

"Shutting up."

He'd be happy with the cleavage that was virtually spilling out of her corset and the very nude woman next to him.

"Sorry beautiful, but my nails are too long," Loba said as she pushed the chief's knees wide. "But there are other ways. Why don't you take care of your boyfriend here while he watches."

When she received no objections, Loba leaned in between her legs, her tongue immediately on the chief's clit. Elliott took her hand and placed it on his cock, but she was in such a state of shock that she wasn't registering anything at that moment, so he formed it around his shaft and used it to stroke himself as he stared at the sight between her legs.

Long whines escaped the chief as Loba used both hands to spread her labia and sat back to admire her flushed pussy. She ran a finger up and down over her clit, careful of her nail, looking up at Elliott with another grin.

"You just want to make her come, don't you?" Loba asked. "Listen to the gorgeous sounds she makes. Look how wet she is... Here's what I'm going to do, Witt. I'm going to make her come, then she's going to sit on your dick and I'm going to make her come again. How does that sound?"

"F-fine by me," he said. "Hey, I'm just happy to be here."

"That sound good to you, beautiful?" Loba asked, pressing in on her bud, which had become much more pronounced.

She nodded emphatically.

Loba's mouth was on her again, flicking her clit with lightning speed. The chief attempted to pay any attention to Elliott, but was too distracted to do so. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had her this keyed up so quickly. She was on the verge of coming already, her breaths turning into whimpers and then desperate whines. Loba had to push her back down into the sofa as she came, her body wanting to arch up off of the cushions as the tension that had been building in her lower abdomen exploded. The Legend didn't let up immediately, though, giving her several more insufferable moments of attention that made the chief let out a string of curses. Only then did Loba relent, sitting back and wiping her mouth on the back of her wrist.

"Put her on your lap," Loba said.

She helped Elliott pull the chief onto his lap so she was squatting over his legs, facing away from him. She was just coming out of her fog when he slipped his erection up into her, making her groan long and loud. He grasped her hips and pushed himself up into her as the tail end of her orgasm repeatedly gripped and released him.

Loba sat on the sofa next to them, her mouth on the chief's breast, her tongue rolling along her nipple. As Elliott began thrusting from underneath, using the sofa to bounce himself up in and out of her, Loba's two fingers found her clit.

"I just came," she murmured, holding onto Elliott's arms.

"Why stop at just one?" Loba asked, her voice perfectly smug. At that moment, she clicked on the small finger vibrator she had quietly slid on her middle finger and pushed it into the chief's clit, returning her attention to her breast.

The sensation was overwhelming. She was still sensitive from her first orgasm, but now with Elliott's dick, she was sure she was going to lose her mind. She wanted to push them both away, it was too much, and yet at the same time, she wanted to ride it out and see how far this overstimulation would go.

At a certain point, time might as well have stopped. She was no longer able to tell how long they had been at this. Elliott was growling behind her, one of his hands having moved to her other breast, clutching at it roughly, while Loba teased her clit with the finger vibe.

"Please," she begged, her voice growing ragged.

"Isn't that sweet?" Loba asked. "Since you asked so nicely."

With that, Loba pushed the vibe firmly into her clit and spun the speed up to high. The chief practically screamed, her hands scratching at Elliott's forearms. She didn't exactly notice when Loba moved the vibe away from her clit and quickly rolled down the tops of her leggings, moving her hand between her own legs as she enjoyed the show Elliott was providing. She was too busy grinding herself against him, her eyes rolling as far back into her head as they could possibly go. She felt like she was going to black out.

With a few final thrusts, he stammered something that resembled words and pushed the woman on top of him down into his frame as hard as he could. He kept her there as his leg began to shake, his head rolling back onto the top of the sofa. His arms then went limp and the moment he let go of her, her back fell against his chest as she gasped for air, her legs giving out underneath her. 

Minutes went by before they both returned to reality. He spread his legs wide, letting her sit between them. She continued to lean against him, but turned her head to see how Loba was faring.

"Am I losing my mind or is she just not here?" Elliott asked, waving his hand to the empty space where the woman had once been next to them.

"She snuck off," she said, stretching her legs out in front of her. "She probably didn't want to hear any Mirage à trois jokes."

"Oh come on, that's good material," he said, pretending to be wounded. "But seriously, did that... just happen?"

"I must have been _very_ good in my past life," she muttered after a bit. "Because I can barely believe it, either. Fuck it's late."

"Well, you don't have to go home," he said, patting the top of her head. "But you can stay here."

"Thanks," she said through a yawn. "Let's go fill your bed with dupes."

"Babe, you know exactly what I like."


	10. Care Package - 3rd Person POV (Octane)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when Octane runs out of stims?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place mid season 7.
> 
> Tags that apply: Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Female Ejaculation (mild), Drug Use (cannabis), F/M

God she had missed her flat. After spending weeks cramped in an even smaller unit on Psamathe, she had really grown to appreciate her home back on Solace. Olympus was a hell of a sight, there was no denying it, but she was relieved the games had moved back to Talos for the time being. It meant she could go back to living and working out of Solace City. 

She couldn’t keep up with how fast things were changing, either. She was just starting to figure out Rampart, or so she thought, when an entirely new woman joined the games. The more women, the better, but she couldn’t understand a damn thing this new gal said on account of her thick accent. It didn’t really matter, though. She came in, tested the guns, said something endearing (probably), and left. Which was a lot better than Ramya, who always wanted to make a contest over anything munitions-related.

She absolutely dreaded the idea of Ramya coming into her shop.

Her mobile buzzed in her jacket pocket as she was setting several bags of groceries down on her kitchen counter. She fished it out and swiped the screen on, her brow shooting straight up when she saw the source of the text message. 

_Come over and bring your weed_.

It was from Oc. She hadn’t heard from him directly in… she looked at the last message from him. Months. Nearly half a year. He hadn’t texted or come into her workshop at all. She had managed to get Elliott to give her whatever gossip he had, but none of it involved Oc. 

The phone buzzed again in her hand and the next message was his address. She gave him a thumbs up in response and put away whatever she needed to in the fridge, then packed up a few things in her bag and headed back out the door for the address he had provided. She hadn’t ever been to his place, so she had no idea what to expect.

She found herself in front of a fancy security gate, which didn’t surprise her. The kid was rich and famous, after all. She found his name on the callbox and dialed his number. There was no voice confirmation, just the sound of the door unlatching. She pushed it open and wandered into the complex. She crossed through a small, well-kept garden and was faced with a bank of modern elevators. Everything was softly lit and clean. Perhaps there was hope yet.

Once she got to his floor and found his flat, she didn’t even need to announce herself. He opened the door before she could ring the bell. His short green hair was a mess, his hazel eyes ringed with black circles, his lips stretched into a thin line. He looked exhausted.

“Hey,” she said.

He held the door wide and motioned impatiently. Once she was in, he closed the door heavily behind them. The locks all engaged by themselves. 

“I was surprised to hear from you,” she said. “You feeling okay?”

“No.”

He brushed past her and sat down on his sofa, washed by the bright light coming from his giant TV. He didn’t have any other lights on, but just by that alone she could see the state of chaos his flat was in. There were bottles and cans strewn everywhere, accented by takeout containers.

“What’s the problem?” she asked, sitting down next to him as she unzipped her bag in her lap.

“I fucking ran out of stims,” he said, a bite to his voice she had never heard before.

“Is that even possible?”

“Yes, it’s fucking possible.”

“I'll write off your crankiness as withdrawal from your designer speed, but why not buy your own weed? It's everywhere and cheap as hell," she said. "Plus, there are actual medical drugs for this. I'm sure Silva Pharmaceuticals makes half a dozen."

"That's the fucking problem," he muttered. "Roll the joint, would you?" 

He turned and stared at her, his eyes wandering up and down her face. If it were anyone else, she would have packed up and left already, but the guy was clearly miserable. He called her for a reason, he just wasn't saying why. Truth be told, she _had_ missed his gorgeous eyes, which were more green in this light than brown.

So she did as she was told, rolling them an old fashioned joint to share. There were a million fancier ways to ingest cannabis, most of them discovered hundreds of years ago. Hell, using flowers alone was downright medieval. But she could depend on the old fashioned methods. She was high when she wanted to be and sober when she needed to be, too.

"I would have thought that fancy dialysis machine of yours would help prevent this," she said as she produced the joint, holding it up for him. 

"That keeps me from ODing," he said, plucking it from her fingers. "Yo, will this shut my fucking brain off, too?" 

"Have you not smoked weed before?" she asked. 

"Ages ago, and I decided it was _not_ for me," he said. 

She pulled a lighter from her pocket and handed it to him.

"It won't shut your brain off but it'll change what you think about. If you're having any anxiety, it should help with that. Or stressed about anything…," she said. 

He snatched the lighter and lit the end of the joint, taking a hit and holding it for several seconds before he exhaled and erupted into a coughing fit. She took the joint from him with a smile, following suit minus all of the coughing. They did this a few times until he finally sat back against the sofa and sighed heavily.

She took the opportunity to carefully put the joint out--it was for him, after all. She'd leave him with as many as he wanted, but she wasn't the one who needed it right now. She was more interested in making sure he was okay.

"Fuck," he said.

"When do you get more stims?" she asked. 

"Tomorrow, delivery got delayed. Sorry for being a shit," he said, looking back at her.

"How do you feel?" 

"Terrible still, but better now that you're here," he said.

"Why me? Why not Che? She's your best friend, isn't she?" 

"Oh my God the lecture," he said. "No way. I can fucking hear it now."

"About the stims?" she asked, confused. 

"No, she doesn’t give a shit about the stims. About my flat."

"It _is_ in a state," she said, looking around.

"Christ, I'm high already," he said.

"Well, that'll happen if you never smoke," she said, returning her attention to him. He was still staring at her, his eyes soft at the corners. 

She inched closer to him and he wound his thin arm around her waist, drawing her in the rest of the way. He pushed his face into her neck and shoulder, where it stayed, his lips on her skin, kissing her lazily.

"If you were anyone else, Octavio," she said with a laugh. 

"What?" he asked, lifting his head.

"I'd have been out that door a long time ago."

"I'll make it up to you," he said, draping his other arm across her upper chest, resting his hand on her shoulder.

"Enlighten me," she said.

His fingertips found her ear, which he traced lightly. His familiar wolfish grin returned, a bit more laid back than usual. Clearly, he was feeling better.

"I'm going to eat the hell out of your pussy."

"In this messy ass apartment?"

"No, look," he said, suddenly standing. 

He tugged her up with him and led her by the hand to his bedroom, which looked completely untouched--it was immaculate, as if he didn't use it at all. He turned the lights on low and fell onto his back on the bed, spreading his arms wide, his green hair fluttering as he went.

"You goblin, do you just pass out on your sofa?" she asked. 

"Yeah well, what if I have a date over?" he asked. “Gotta keep the bed made.” 

"They'd never get past the front door, Oc. Do… you go on dates?" 

She crawled onto his bed next to him and combed her fingers through his short hair.

"I went on one… six months ago? I wore pants, it was terrible," he said. "Promise me you'll never ask me to wear pants."

"We don't go out. Besides, I don't want you in pants. I don't even want you in those shorts," she said. 

His chuckle came from deep within his chest, but he didn't budge. He just laid there, looking up at her, seeming generally pleased with the situation. For anyone else, that wouldn't mean a whole lot, but for him to simply lie there, no part of his body jiggling, was a sight to behold. 

"Come here, bebé. Distract me."

He scooped his arms around her and tugged her into him again, kissing her as soon as she got close enough. She ran her hand up under his t-shirt, her fingers finding his abs, tracing along their lines, over his navel and around the nodules inset in his torso. He all but purred into their kiss, a sound she hadn't ever heard him make before. It was one part content house cat and one part pit bike motor.

She tugged his shirt over his head, hovering over him for a moment. Had he always been this bewitching? Her hand ran along his wide jawline as he stared back up at her, the blood vessels in his eyes having expanded. His eyelids dropped slightly as his breathing came deep and slow.

"You look high as hell," she said. "It may be the cutest thing I've ever seen."

She peppered a few kisses across his round cheek up to his prominent ear.

"I don't think I've ever moved this slow in my life," he said.

"You're not moving at all, so that's probably true," she said as she undid his shorts. "The Octrain ain't leaving the station today."

He chucked again as she finished removing his clothes. Once he was nude, she ran her hands up along the tops of his thighs, over his protruding hip bones, then squeezed his waist. He wasn't remotely erect, but the rest of his body responded favorably to her touch, his back arching slightly, his hips rising to meet her hands.

"Have I said I'm sorry for being such a capullo earlier?" he asked in a murmur.

"You have," she said. "I've already forgiven you. I've missed this skinny little body of yours, you know."

He gave her a look that was simultaneously coy and a little sheepish.

"Witt ain't enough for you?"

"Is he still running his mouth?" she asked. 

"Nah, but it's always obvious when the dude gets laid. He's more likely to win a match. You're gonna screw up the algorithms, hermosa," he said.

"I'll just have to start banging all of you equally," she said, pinching him.

"Let me know when you and Ramya go at it. I'd love to see what that looks like. Oo, you, Ramya, and Anita. It'd be all gun innuendos," he said, rolling around under her hands as she continued squeezing him playfully. "Which one of you would wear the biggest strap-on?"

She tried to pin him down to the bed but failed miserably, causing them both to start giggling. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her down with him, wrapping himself around her as he kissed her again. After a few minutes, he started undressing her, not stopping until his bare body was up against hers.

Lying side by side, his lips were back on her neck, his groin grinding into hers. His breathing was still deep, but she could feel his heart fluttering in his chest as he muttered in Spanish. When she draped her top leg over his hip, she felt his cock nudge up against her pussy. He wasn't fully erect, but he was well on his way. He drove himself against her harder when she groaned.

"Octavio…"

"This is nice," he said, enjoying the way her breasts felt against his chest.

"It certainly is," she said.

He grabbed her leg and set it back down on top of her other, then gripped her ass as he slid himself in and out from between her thighs, which grew slicker with each dip, his cock growing firmer. He still wasn't moving with much speed, but she didn't mind at all.

After several more minutes, she pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, straddling his groin. He stretched his arms wide across the bed and hummed happily as he understood what she meant to do. She ran her hands along his lean frame, loving the view from above. She then lifted her hips and wrapped her hand around his shaft, guiding him into her. 

"That'll fucking do it, won't it?" he said as he felt himself grow rock hard inside of her.

"Well, I wasn't sure," she said.

"Neither was I, but damn if that doesn't feel amazing."

He let out a long sigh and ran his hands through his green hair as she began rocking herself against him. Her own fingers clasped around his sharp hips, shoving him down into the mattress, her mouth hanging open slightly as his length filled her. With a delighted moan, she then yanked his hips up against her.

"Careful, don't break me," he said with an impish smile .

"Impossible. Have you always been this… narrow?"

"Yeah babe. I guess I'm always on top, aren't I?" he said.

"Your waist is so tiny," she said. "I love it."

He reached out and grabbed her wrists as she moved up and down him, her speed slow and even. His grasp climbed up her arms and he reeled her down toward him until her chest touched his. With his hands behind her head, he pressed his lips to hers. His body was so warm, now that he had her here, she didn't want to move away. 

She leaned her elbow into the bed at his side and curled her other arm under him. As if in concession for bringing her down to him, he began thrusting upward into her, barely moving any faster than she had been. Her kisses trailed down his cheek, then up under his jaw and he made a noise that was somewhere halfway between a moan and a content laugh.

"You're a goddamn súcubo," he said softly.

"Let's not forget, you started this whole damn thing, Octavio," she said. 

She took his earlobe between her lips and nipped it, making him squirm underneath her. Propping herself up on her hands, she looked down at him again, pleased with how pink he was from his face all the way down his chest. She'd never seen him like this--she wasn't sure anyone had.

"Tavi," he said. 

His defenses were completely down, she could see it in his eyes, in the way his face was completely relaxed.

“What?” she asked.

"When we're like this, call me Tavi," he said.

"How many people call you Tavi?" she asked. 

"If you do, one."

Her head dropped and she sputtered as if she had just been shot in the chest. How dare he say something so goddamn cute, looking the way he did at that moment. Her lips found his neck and she began kissing him again as he snaked his arms around her waist and resumed driving himself into her. 

He let his head roll back as she continued kissing him, his thrusts not increasing in speed so much as increasing in force as he felt all of the night finally catch, the need to come finally surfacing. He became distinctly aware of how wonderful she felt around him, and at the moment she realized he was peaking, she flexed her muscles, bringing the feeling into even sharper focus for himm. He let out a staccato whimper from the new sense of urgency that was overcoming him.

Hissing, he rapidly plunged up into her several more times and then held himself up against her for a few long moments, his arms squeezing their bodies together. With a whispered expletive, his exhausted body fell back down to the bed.

The moment he stopped, his stomach growled loudly, almost comically so. She patted his abdomen. 

"Come on. Let's you some food and the rest of that joint," she said.

"You're not mad if we stop here?" he asked as she rolled off of him. 

"Are you going to make it up to me?" 

"When those stims get here tomorrow, I'm going to turn you into a puddle," he said. "But about the food--there's a problem. I don't have any."

She wasn't surprised. In fact, she didn't even want to look in his kitchen to be sure. 

"Where's your mobile?" 

He dragged himself out of bed and made his way to the living room, scratching his back as he went with several yawns. If it weren't for his prosthetic legs, she swore he would have stumbled. When he returned, he tossed his handheld to her and sat back down on the bed with the rest of the joint she had rolled.

"I'll eat anything. I'm fucking starving."

"I'll even wake you up when it gets here," she said.

He crashed hard after getting some food in him. She didn't think she was that tired, but after curling up with him under the blankets, she also fell asleep quickly. What surprised her the most was the time on her mobile when she woke up. What woke her up was the chiming of his call box.

She shook him awake, but he was so slow to approach anything resembling coherency that she got out of bed and tried to get dressed as fast as possible, hopping to the call box. She cleared her throat and hit the button.

"Yeah?" 

"Delivery from Silva Pharmaceuticals."

"Yeah, sure. Bring it up," she said as she opened the gate.

Oc had shambled into the living room when the front door rang. He politely motioned her away and answered it, faced with a palette of boxes. She could see his eyes light up, like his long lost pet had finally come home. He gave the guy hidden somewhere in behind the boxes a digital signature with his mobile and the delivery man was gone, leaving Octane with a fresh stock of stims.

"How long will this last you?" she asked. 

"Not long, which is why they're on a scheduled delivery. And I have backups in storage. Well I usually do," he said. "I blew through all my supply on Olympus waaaay faster than expected."

Without first getting a box in the flat, he opened one up and pulled out a stim, flipping it in his fingers several times before exposing its injector and slamming it in his thigh. He let out a long, relieved sigh before bouncing in place a few times.

"That's the shit. Let me just get this inside. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten. I'm gonna eat your pussy until it's dry," he said, pointing to his bedroom. "Go."

"Vulgar," she teased as she left him to his delivery.

She undressed and sat at the foot of the bed, watching him from the other end of the flat as he unloaded the boxes into his living room. Once he was finished, he turned toward her and, with a fist full of stims, made his way over to her like he was on a mission. 

After tossing the stims on the bed next to her, he all but tore his shorts back off, revealing his generous erection. He then leaned in and grabbed her knees, yanking them wide, his eyes locked with hers. Before she could say anything, his fingers were hooked into her clit, rubbing it at an angle. The adorable, giggling Octavio was gone, replaced by the devious, adrenaline chaser.

He was on his knees, pulling her toward the edge of the bed as far as possible. She let out a small cry as he then pushed his face in between her thighs. He used his hands to spread her labia, making it easier to run his tongue along her clit, its point flicking up and down along the engorged bud.

She fell back onto her elbows and clenched her eyes shut, jamming her toes into the floor as he continued. His tongue was fast, fast enough it made her feel helpless. He was a force, like a hurricane that ripped through and left her a mess afterward.

"Fuck, Oc," she groaned.

He sat back, a broad grin stretching across his face. After licking his lips, he wiped the lower half of his face on his bicep and squeezed the tops of her thighs. He then pressed his thumb up against her clit as he watched her.

"You get so goddamn wet," he said.

"You're the only one who makes me squirt," she said, her foot jittering.

"Oh yeah?" he asked as he slid two fingers into her.

He didn't need an answer. His mouth was back on her as his fingers worked her from the inside. Her moaning started off quiet but rose quickly into arrhythmic panting. There were long moments she held her breath before she gasped for air. 

He didn't let up.

She practically sang one sustained note as he felt the warmth on his neck and chest. He maintained his pace, enjoying the sound she was making. When her body collapsed under his hands, he finally sat back up and looked at her as she writhed on his bed before him.

Before she came to her senses, he had dragged her further back on the bed and was on top of her, the head of his cock playing in the folds of her pussy. As she returned to reality, she looked up at him, his chest wet, his pupils dilated.

"You good?" he asked.

"I'm great, Oc," she said dreamily.

The corners of his mouth curled upward.

"Good. Because we're going to do this all day. And you know, you can still call me Tavi."


	11. Motherlode - 3rd Person POV (Fuse | Crypto)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuse talks a big game. Crypto finishes what the new legend starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags that apply: F/M, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Vaginal Fingering, Sex Toys
> 
> Not a threesome
> 
> I'm bound to update this as we get a better sense of Fuse's personality

She stood with her mouth agape as she stared at the ship Fitzroy had crashed into the canyon, her pad in one hand, her bag full of gear on her back. She had come out with the engineers to survey the island to get an idea of what the Legends would be doing to her goddamn guns this upcoming season. She wasn't ready for the total mess he had made of things, though.  
  
She hadn’t been in the canyon when Fitzroy’s ship went down, but she heard all about it later that evening. The crater it made was damn impressive. From what she was told, it just about matched the ego of the man who made it. And considering that came from Elliott meant something.  
  
“Sorry about all of that.”  
  
She turned to find Fitzroy strolling up behind her.  
  
“Every time one of you joins the games, we lose half the damn canyon,” she said, holding her arm out to his ship. “What are you doing here, anyway?”  
  
“Wanted to get some things from the ship,” he said.  
  
“I swear to god, the Syndicate is losing it. We’re just letting Legends on the field now,” she muttered.  
  
“You work for the games?” he asked.  
  
“I’m the chief munitions engineer, but I lend a hand here and there wherever they need it,” she said, reshouldering her bag as she took a long look at him.  
  
She didn’t know what to make of him. His mustache that covered his entire upper lip was certainly… _a lot_. And his mullet was a clear, conscious fashion choice. His round cheeks did a fair job masking his age, which showed at the corners of his eyes and in the creases on his forehead. She knew jackshit about him, but the arm and the eye told her he had lived a rough life. The smile he was flashing her told her he was a real charmer. Despite the mullet.  
  
“So uh, is this woman who blew up half the canyon going to be a problem?” she asked.  
  
“Maggie?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“I’m sure the Syndicate can handle it,” he said.  
  
“Between you and me… Fitzroy, is it? I don’t know what’s been going on with the games since they let the serial killer simulacrum join,” she said. “So I wouldn’t count on them solving your problems.”  
  
“You certainly seem to know a lot,” he said, hooking his thumbs into his belt. “Let me buy you dinner. You could really get me caught up to speed.”  
  
With a smirk, she began walking away from him.  
  
“Sure, just as long as you don’t ask me any questions about your fellow Legends,” she said.   
  
“Why’s that?” he asked, catching up with her.  
  
“I know them too well,” she said as she poked at her pad, looking up occasionally. “I consider several of them close friends.”  
  
“I’ve got an easy solution, then. You and I become friends and then you’ll feel free to share.”  
  
She chuckled without looking up from her work.  
  
“Dinner first. I’m not sure I can get past that ridiculous mustache,” she said, then kept walking.  
  
He stopped and flattened the tips of his mustache with his fingers, furrowing his brow.   
  
“It’s a great mustache,” he called after her. 

She checked her mobile, standing outside an unpretentious but unbelievably busy barbecue joint. She was a few minutes early and the place didn’t take reservations, so she was resigned to stand outside and wait for Fitzroy. The guy seemed like trouble, like chaos followed closely behind him. As much as he thought this dinner was his chance to get information out of her, it was also her chance to figure out just how much of a pain in the ass he was going to be for her.  
  
The last asshole who caused her this much trouble… she opened up her messages and typed a single quick line to Tae Joon.  
  
_I wanna know who the hell Maggie is._  
  
She didn’t expect a reply, not via a regular text.  
  
“There you are.”  
  
She smiled and shoved her mobile in her pocket as Fitzroy walked up to her. He was a giant grin that stretched from one ear to the next, dressed casually, looking precisely like a guy who came from Salvo.  
  
"I'm not late, am I?" he asked.  
  
"Nope," she said.  
  
"Great. Let's get some fucking dinner. I'm starving."  
  
He went in ahead of her to get them a table. She had to admit, his accent was stupidly charming. Not being a member of the Syndicate up until now, she hadn't spent too much time around anyone from Salvo. She was ready to hear all of his confusing slang.  
  
Part way through dinner and one of his several over the top tales about his life, she felt her mobile buzz in her pocket. She pulled it out and snuck a peek at it while he ordered them another round of beers. She was surprised to see she'd gotten a response from Tae Joon.  
  
_The woman who has it out for the new guy?_ he asked.  
  
_I'm having drinks with him, trying to figure out who the hell he is. Someone apparently made destroying King's Canyon the cool thing to do, by the way._  
  
_Invite him over. Try to get more out of him at home_ , he replied.  
  
_I have no idea what you're talking about_ , he added.  
  
She stashed her mobile and looked up, finding Walter watching her. She smiled apologetically.  
  
"Work stuff," she said. "I'm done."  
  
"You're not doing that thing where you have a girlfriend call you and pretend there's a work emergency, are you?" he asked.  
  
"Nope," she said. "Actually, I was going to suggest after this round, we go drink the beers in my fridge. I want to ask you a thousand questions about the terrifying grenade launcher in your arm."  
  
"Let me get the check," he said and then stood. 

They left the bar, beers in hand, and wandered down the busy evening alley. After a few blocks, he turned to look down at her and perked his brow. She wasn't sure what he was about to say.  
  
"I heard a rumor that you're Witt's girl," he said.  
  
"That's it? That's all?" she asked.  
  
"There's more?"   
  
"I'm sure you'll hear more," she said. "But no, I am not 'Witt's girl'."  
  
"So the two of you aren't…"  
  
"Fucking?" she asked.  
  
"Right," he said.  
  
"If that's what you heard, yes, we're definitely fucking. Rumor confirmed. You don't know Elliott well enough yet. Honestly, the only legend capable of having a real relationship is probably Makoa," she said. "I'd say Natalie, but she's got some weird fucking thinking going on with Nox that really makes me wonder."  
  
"What about Che?" he asked. "She seems like a nice young lady."   
  
"They're all so focused on the games. And you don't know this from the outside, but you're going to find out, the games are a mess once you get in," she said. "If they're not in the ring, something catastrophic is always about to happen outside of it."  
  
"I don't mind a bit of chaos," he said, something she already knew was an understatement.  
  
"You're going to be a goddamned catastrophe, aren't you?"   
  
He gave her a wink and chucked his empty beer bottle in a far bin.  
  
Back at her flat, she poured them some drinks and they sat on her sofa as he began showing his arm off to her. The thing was solid, heavy, and complicated. She poked at it and did in fact ask what felt like a thousand questions, which he mostly answered. Every now and then, he withheld a bit of information, not wanting to give away all of his secrets, but he enjoyed entertaining her.  
  
"I've never had a woman so interested in my arm before," he said, sitting back with his drink in his other hand.  
  
"Are they compelled by the mullet?" she asked.  
  
"It's part of the Walter Fitzroy signature look," he said.  
  
She chuckled and let go of his metal arm.  
  
"Styles are different on Salvo, then," she said.  
  
"It's cute that you're more interested in my arm than Walter Fitzroy himself, who is sitting on your sofa with you," he said.  
  
"I am tortured near daily by some of the most well-known people in the Frontier," she said. "If I knew who any famous people from Salvo were, I still don't think I'd be star struck."  
  
"Ouch," he said. "You really know how to make a guy feel like an arse."  
  
"Your arm is impressive, Fitzroy. Show me more impressive things and I'll act accordingly," she said.  
  
"Give me your hand," he said, holding his palm out.  
  
She did as he requested and he drew her hand to his inner thigh, where she discovered a very large erection down the side of his trousers. She didn't yank her hand away, but she did give him a hell of a look. Given her reaction, he had no idea whether he was in trouble or not.  
  
"You've got to admit that's impressive," he said.  
  
"Walter, is this your cock?" she asked.  
  
"Affirmative," he said with another grin.  
  
"Your brilliant idea was to put my hand on your… enormous dick… like that was going to impress me?" she asked.  
  
"A bit of a bold plan, I admit, but you haven't let go," he said.  
  
She pushed his thigh wide and felt around the bulge beneath the cloth, trying to get a sense of just how big he was. He watched her and knocked back the rest of his drink.  
  
"You want to ask a thousand questions about that, too, or can I just give you a demonstration?" he asked.  
  
"First, what the fuck," she said, looking up at him. It really wasn't a question. "Second, fuck off."  
  
But her hands were on his belt buckle and she had it undone in a flash. He didn't move, letting her unzip his trousers and wind her hand down the front of them. He finally groaned when her hand gripped his cock and pulled it from the leg of his trousers. She had it out of his pants and in both of her hands. He had the biggest cock she had seen in person, enough that she wondered how he had sex with it.  
  
"This is a lot," she said.  
  
"You'll be happy to hear I'm good with it, too," he said. "Don't let it scare ya."  
  
"No wonder why you're so confident with that mullet," she muttered.  
  
"First thing's first, though," he said as he set his glass aside. "We're skipping _a lot_ of steps."  
  
He pulled her onto his lap by her biceps. His grasp was a bit rough, but he had a great deal of power behind it. He kissed her, not waiting long before opening his mouth and curling his tongue against hers. His hands were under her shirt, squeezing her breasts, his fingers on her nipples. What he lacked in subtlety, he made up for with extreme confidence.  
  
He wasn't a bad kisser, either.  
  
"I still don't think that's 'first thing's first', but this is all fucked," she said as she removed her shirt for him.  
  
"You got a nice set of tits, you know that?" he asked. "That's probably the second thing I thought when we first met."  
  
"What was the first?" she asked.   
  
"I walked up from behind you, so it was, 'That's a nice ass'," he said.  
  
"Fitzroy," she said.   
  
"Then I thought all sorts of charming things about the rest of you, I promise."  
  
He tipped her back slightly and wrapped his lips around her nipple, sucking on it gently as his tongue played along its tip. She felt her nerves light up and she cooed in delight. He knew what he was doing. He had her pegged a thousand yards away. He was being antagonistic on purpose. He wanted the fight and he knew she was the type to give it to him.  
  
She had thrown the first insult, after all.  
  
He let her nipple go and kissed her again, then hefted her up into his arms as he stood.  
  
"Right, where's your bedroom then?"   
  
She pointed down the short hall.  
  
He carried her across the flat and into her bedroom, where he set her onto her bed. He then began tugging the rest of her clothes off, making her laugh as did so. She didn't mind a bit of manhandling from him. Once undressed, he got back up and peeled off his tank top.  
  
His frame was a little thicker, but it didn't hide his strength. He might have been leaner when he was younger, but he was still plenty fit, even if the years had put a few pounds on him. It certainly didn't seem to bother him. Especially when he got fully out of his trousers and had his well-endowed distraction.  
  
"C'mere," he said, hooking his finger toward where he stood at the edge of her bed.  
  
She obliged and sat in front of him.  
  
"Go on," he said. "Play with it as much as you played with my arm earlier."  
  
She snorted and slapped his thigh.  
  
"No," she said. "Why don't you eat my pussy and then see how much you can fit inside of me."  
  
"Challenge accepted," he said, then dropped to his knees. "Fair warning, though. If you can't walk tomorrow, remember this conversation."  
  
She lay on her back and let him position himself between her legs. With no other notice, he pushed his mouth up against her clit, his tongue against it immediately. His real fingers ran along the edge of her opening before sinking inside of her. He used his index finger and middle finger at first, then added his thumb. She didn't notice because his mouth on her clit was wildly distracting. If he had settings, they were HIGH and POWERFUL, and only those two, nothing else.  
  
Her hand was on the back of his head, gripping his hair, as she made a range of noises. It was when he had managed to get all of his fingers inside of her, fucking her with his folded hand, that she noticed just how much he had inside of her.  
  
"Holy fucking shit," she gasped.  
  
He didn't stop, driving all of his tongue against her as she swore and pulled at his hair. He used his other hand to move her leg back, allowing him to delve a little deeper. It was then he felt her clench around him and the wave crash across her abdomen. She made a strangled noise as she used her feet to try to drive him away. He was stronger than that. He carried on for a little longer until he was sure it was too much, then sat back.  
  
"Christ woman, you're wet," he said as she lay flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling rapidly.  
  
"Half of it's in your fucking mustache," she said without looking at him.  
  
"Keeps it glossy," he said, sliding his body up along hers.  
  
"Ugh."  
  
"You're going to need some lube for this next part," he said, hovering over her.  
  
Half crawling out from under him, she opened a nightstand drawer and handed him a larger than average bottle of unassuming looking lube. He put it back in her hand and lifted an eyebrow.   
  
"Do me the honor, would you?"   
  
He sat back and with a sigh, she applied a liberal amount of room temperature lube to his shaft before setting the bottle aside. He made a small noise as it hit his sensitive skin. She then worked her hands along his length, her fake annoyance disappearing as she admired him. Closing her palm around his head, she moved her hand back and forth along it as her other hand stayed lower.  
  
"I wasn't sure at first, but I've decided. I like you," he said.  
  
"I'm still not sure about you," she replied. "Your cock on the other hand."  
  
He shoved her back into her pillows by her shoulders and lifted her legs in the air, hooking his hands under her knees. As she wiped her hands on her stomach, she felt him push his first few inches inside of her.  
  
"You've got a lot of mirrors in here," he said.  
  
"How else am I going to see what you're doing to me?" she asked.  
  
The next several inches would have been many by most standards and he paused before giving her a bit more. It was this bit more that started to make her squeak. With a grin, he stopped and waited for a good thirty seconds before adding more. Her right eye squinted and he could tell that was her limit for the time being. It wasn't just his length--he was stretching her around as well.  
  
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said as he slid himself back out slightly. Watching her face had been enough. "Like I said, I'm good with it."  
  
He let her legs go and they fell back to the bed. With his hands on her waist, he began slowly, his thrusts measured, watching as he fucked her. Once he got a decent sense of how she felt around him and how her body reacted to each thrust, he truly started in on her. She jiggled underneath him, her breasts bouncing enough that she grabbed them as her moans inadvertently became vibrato.  
  
When she felt like he was going to bounce her brain straight out of her head, his thrusts only grew more intense. She had to hold onto something, her hands letting go of her chest as she reached for him. He leaned in and let her wrap her arms around him, kissing her with a near equal amount of force. At some point, she couldn't breathe anymore. When she broke the kiss, she wasn't just gasping for air, she was screaming.  
  
He pushed her wrists into the pillows and watched as her eyes rolled backwards. The noises she made sounded nothing like her normal voice at all. If he were younger, he'd have come already, but there was occasionally a benefit to his age. Enjoying this for longer was one of them.  
  
She screamed herself hoarse, her voice finally giving out on her as he pummeled her. Ragged breathing replaced the cries. She was running out of strength, he could see it in her face, in her hands. He had worn her out. She was still just as tight around him, though.   
  
Satisfied, he pulled himself out and moved up her frame, jerking himself off for the last for moments until he spilled himself onto her breasts, moaning as he came. He rubbed his head until he was finished and then suddenly felt extremely exhausted as the evening caught up with him.  
  
When she opened her eyes, he was already half-dressed. She didn't even remember falling asleep. He noticed she was awake and tossed a towel toward her. She used it to wipe her chest off and sat up, shaking the fog from her head.  
  
"You're leaving?" she asked. "Why not stay so we can do more?"   
  
"I didn't expect that," he said as he pulled his shirt on. "I'd love to, but at my age, my refractory period is 'tomorrow'. But dinner's always on me."  
  
He made his way to her bedroom door, turned, and leaned in the frame as he looked back at her.  
  
"Been a hell of an evening," he said. "We're doing it again."  
  
She laughed as she rubbed the side of her face.  
  
"Yeah. Sure. Until I get an eviction notice," she said.  
  
With that, he left and she got out of bed. Her knees wobbled for a moment, but after a few steps, she made her way to her bathroom and got in a long, hot shower. Whatever complaints her body had melted away. She then guzzled several glasses of water from the sink and draped a towel over her head, drying herself as she returned to her bedroom.  
  
She lowered the towel from her face and sighed, then whipped it across the room with a shriek at Tae Joon, who was sitting in her computer desk chair, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His jacket hung on the back of the chair, as if he had been waiting for a while.  
  
He batted her towel away and smirked as he put his mobile in his pocket.  
  
"Christ, Tae Joon," she said. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"You looked disappointed," he said.  
  
"Disappointed?"  
  
"You clearly wanted more."  
  
"Alright, I see," she said. "You're a real pervert, you know that? Get me to bring the new guy home so you can watch him fuck me. Did you really want me to get any info?"   
  
"You have a way of getting people to talk in your bed. He just didn't stay long enough. Next time," he said, uncrossing his legs. "Besides, I'm tired of watching you sleep with Witt."  
  
He stood and circled her, his brown eyes glinting devilishly as he pulled his mobile out and swiped the screen on, holding it up for her to see. With a touch, a video began playing, which she immediately recognized as the scene from her bedroom just about an hour ago. Her cries were wildly loud, louder than she realized.  
  
"Wow," she said. "That's impressive."  
  
"You're definitely not shy," he said.   
  
After a few more seconds, he stopped the video and set his mobile on her bedside stand.  
  
"So you're here to finish my evening, is that it?" she asked. "He watches me have sex, breaks into my flat, and shows me his recordings, but he won't straight out tell me he's here to have sex. What kind of awkward nerd are you?"  
  
She returned to her bed and tugged the sheets off, balling them up and throwing them into her hamper. He cleared his throat but still sat down and began removing his boots. By the time she had her bed made, he was in just his black shorts.  
  
She sat down in the middle of her bed and looked at him in her desk chair, her eyebrows raised. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew a wrapped item, then wandered over to her. She could make out the obvious erection against the fabric of his shorts as he approached.  
  
He knelt on the bed and set the mystery item aside, then hooked his thumbs in his shorts and pushed them down, his cock bouncing free. She hadn't seen him nude for a long time--she had almost forgotten how beautiful he was.  
  
She pulled his shorts down to his knees and leaned in, rolling her tongue along his head. He inhaled sharply and put a hand on her head, watching as she licked his cock from one end to the other. He ran himself across her mouth, slapping his head softly against her bottom lip, and then her tongue once she stuck it back out.  
  
"Beautiful," he muttered, then slid his cock into her mouth, both hands on the sides of her head.  
  
She closed her eyes and relaxed as he began thrusting. This wasn't what she had expected, but she was willing to roll with it. He groaned as his head slid fully down her throat. He paused, savoring the sensation, then pulled most of the way out before repeating the processes.  
  
"Why are you so good at this?" he asked, pausing to stroke himself against her lips.  
  
"Practice," she said.  
  
"I want to come this way," he said.  
  
She opened her mouth, flattening her tongue. He took the clear invitation and pushed himself back inside, his cock following the back of her tongue. He sped up until the fingers on one of his hands began to tremble. Her hands grasped his hips as she gagged lightly, a sound that sent a rush through him.   
  
While she struggled with her reflexes, his breaths turned to gasps as he plunged himself down her throat a few final times before holding her face to his body as he came. After a moment, she swatted the outside of his leg and he let her go. She began coughing immediately, her forearm to her lower face.  
  
"Get me some water," she said, managing each word between a cough. " _Please_."  
  
He was zoned out, watching the product of his work as he rode his current state of bliss. Once the room solidified around him, he pulled his shorts off completely and got out of bed. He returned from the bathroom with a glass, which she downed immediately.  
  
He then hauled her down into her bed and put his hands on her thighs, opening her legs. The sound she made in response was mostly lost in her final bit of coughing. He grabbed the package he had brought with him and removed the plain paper from it, revealing an expensive looking rabbit vibrator. It was certainly nicer than any toy she had in her flat.  
  
"I've been meaning to give this to you," he said.  
  
"Thanks?"  
  
He smiled, clearly knowing something she didn't. He then found the bottle of lube already on her nightstand. After spreading some on the toy, he put some on his fingers and warmed it up in his hand. His fingers slid between her legs, running the lube along her clit and then dipped inside of her.  
  
"Have I ever told you how damn beautiful you are?" she asked, propping herself up on her elbows.  
  
His smile turned into an embarrassed grin.  
  
"I'm not the narcissist," he said.  
  
He took the sleek, curved rabbit and guided it inside of her, then pushed the outside piece down, molding it to her clit. He grabbed her hand and put it on the bottom of the vibrator, then sat cross-legged between her legs as she held the toy in place.  
  
"Notice anything?" he asked.  
  
"There's no controls," she said.  
  
"Not on the device."   
  
With that, his ocular implant flashed open and she watched him scroll through thousands of lines at once. She had never seen him do any of this up close, it was all very entrancing. How he processed that much information at once was beyond her. Not that she was bad with software--hell, all the guns required it. He was just something else completely.  
  
While she was admiring him, the vibrator came to life, causing her to jump slightly. The whole thing pulsed as the low vibration rippled through her. She withdrew her hand, realizing the whole thing would stay in place because of its shape.  
  
"So, from how far can you do this?"   
  
His eyes flicked past the glowing holoscreen in front of his face, looking at her.  
  
"After I make a few adjustments to your mobile, wherever," he said. "I know you don't go anywhere without the thing."  
  
"Says the guy with a monitor built into his head," she said.  
  
The bit pressed into her clit kicked into gear, buzzing at high speed. She grasped her blankets, digging her heel into her mattress as her mouth hung open. Satisfied, he reduced the speed and she fell back into her pillows.  
  
His hands crept along her thighs, since they were mostly unoccupied, squeezing them as he altered the speed and intensity of both the dildo inside of her and the external piece he'd already demonstrated for her. He only needed to dot or swipe the air on occasion with his hand. She had nothing left to say, no more snide comments, just unending moans that matched the toy's settings.  
  
Of course he liked fucking her, but he really got off on watching her. There was a thrill to feeling like an uninvited guest, watching her enjoy herself. She knew he could be watching at any moment, but she acted none the wiser, letting him revel in his fantasies. She was right--he was a pervert, but she had her hand in the whole thing, happily performing for him. He could reasonably simulate the feeling of a pussy. He couldn't, in good conscience, replicate the voyeuristic opportunity she offered.  
  
"I can do this all night," he said as she whimpered before him.  
  
"Tae Joon…"  
  
He turned the settings back up to high and she began writhing, the stimulation almost too much. Her voice became a piercing, high pitched whine as she pushed her abdomen toward him. She was losing her mind and he loved every bit of it.   
  
As she was begging incoherently, it hit her and her whine went silent. She pulled the blanket over her face and let out a loud, long low groan. Her ass hit the bed and she reached down, yanking the toy from her body. She held it up, panting, then threw it at him and rolled over onto her stomach, crossing her legs tight as the orgasm rolled through her.  
  
He couldn't help but laugh.  
  
"Like I said, all night," he said as he got on his knees and hung over her. "He could have stayed and used your wand on you."  
  
"I'm sure he thought he wrecked me," she muttered. "Big explosion, go home."  
  
His hand trailed along her ass and up her side, following the curves of her body, whispering something in Korean that she couldn't understand. Straddling her thighs, he pushed his fingers in between her legs, his fingers slick as they parted her labia. He took his now hard cock in his other hand and nudged it against his fingers until he found her opening. Sucking air in through his teeth, he settled into her slowly--she was tight lying like this.  
  
She hummed happily, resting her head in her arms as he clutched her ass and dipped in and out of her. His movements were fluid, his hips rolling gracefully against her in an even, slow tempo. He looked up at the mirror on the wall and nearly faltered at the sight--he knew these were here, but he hadn't been over since they'd gone up. Running his hand through his black hair, he took the opportunity to admire the two of them.  
  
Maybe there was something to this.  
  
"All night?" she asked in a dream-like state.  
  
"Bamsae," he answered.  
  
He ran his palms along her back, basking in just how wonderful she felt around him. Pushing his hands into the bed at her sides, he rested more of his weight into her as his thrusts quickened. He could take more time, but he had come here to play with her, not the other way around. Fucking her was a pleasant bonus.  
  
His rhythm broke down as he felt the need to finish grow more urgent. He was squeezing her hip when he sunk himself in her one last time, coming with a strained grunt. His hand on her hip kneaded it mindlessly as he finished, his facial expression pinched. When he finally looked up, he found her watching him in the mirror, beaming.  
  
"I love the faces you make," she said.  
  
He slipped out of her and leaned forward, kissing the back of her head.  
  
"And I love the ones you're about to make," he said, his hands on her waist.  
  
"Tae Joon!" she yelled with a laugh as he flipped her onto her back once again before he grabbed the vibrator.


	12. Now You See Me... - 3rd Person POV (Mirage)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An aggravating day takes a chilly turn as a certain simulacrum decides to show up unannounced. Mirage makes everything _much_ better.

She was in her range, testing some modifications to the 30-30 Repeater. The thing was already causing havoc on the field, which was probably going as planned. Drop a new gun, have it be drastically over-powered, and let the Legends wreck each other’s asses with it for the first part of the season. It made for good television. Then, in a few weeks, she’d get the call to adjust it. This many seasons in, it had become a cycle she learned to anticipate.

Her mobile buzzed in her back pocket. She fished it out and found a video had been sent to her from an anonymous source. Without thinking, she pulled it open. It was the dropship; she recognized it immediately. The video panned back and forth from Witt and Fitzroy, recorded from a drone flying about a foot above head height. The two had clearly been sharing some pre-game shit talk—Walter was beaming while Elliott had his arms crossed over his chest, looking low-key annoyed.

_“And Witt,” Fitzroy said._

_“Yup.”_

_“That engineer you’re keen on?”_

_“Oh ho ho this should be good,” Ramya said, standing at Fitzroy’s side, snapping her gum._

_“Doubt she’ll be textin’ ya much in the future, mate, now that ol’ Fusey’s rootin’ her,” Fitzroy said with a giant wink._

_“Alright, bud,” Elliott said, narrowing his eyes as Fitzroy, Ramya, and Revenant dropped from the ship, Fitzroy giving Witt a salute as they went._

_Elliott turned toward the camera, which focused on Crypto and Pathfinder._

_“That arthritic creep thinks he can get in my head with that bullshit. Who does he think he's fooling, anyway? Even the robot's banged her."_

_“It’s working,” Crypto said, his voice calm yet snide. “Don’t let him get under your skin, old man.”_

_“That’s Crypto’s job!” Pathfinder said in his hallmark good-natured tone._

The video cut off at that point, causing her to let out an extended sigh. She could have lived without seeing this, but maybe Tae Joon was trying to be nice to Witt. Unlikely. Maybe he was doing her a favor, given her history with Elliott. Either way, it worked out the same. 

She pulled up her thread with Elliott and sent one message: _I'll make you dinner for a change if you want to come over._

She carried the repeater back to her shop, eyeing her mobile as she worked on the rifle. After several minutes, she put her tools down and leaned against her workbench with both hands. Had she gone so soft on the jackass? She shoved her mobile in her back pocket and wandered around the shop for a bit. When no response came, she decided to pack it up for the day and head home. She wasn’t going to get anything done at this rate.

When she arrived at her building, she had to use her physical keys to get in the building and then in her front door, which was annoying but not entirely abnormal. Her grid suffered enough brownouts from voltage issues, so she wasn’t surprised when the power blew altogether. Once inside, she opened her front closet and pulled out a charged power block. Standing up straight with the giant battery at her feet, she felt the eyes on her back, the stare coming from the short, dark hallway that led to her bedroom.

“Come the fuck on now,” she muttered, her heart sinking into her stomach. 

She wasn’t going to turn around, no way in hell. The room seemed colder than before and where her stomach had once been was now an empty pit.

“What the hell do you want?” she asked, focusing on her closet. 

No reply came, only complete silence filled her flat behind her. When she finally gathered the courage to look, the hallway was empty. She put her hand to her chest, feeling her heart race. She hadn’t imagined it; someone had been there. With extreme caution, she crept down her hallway and peeked into her bathroom, finding it empty. She then opened her bedroom door slowly and took several tentative steps inside. The icy eyes on her returned, draining the blood from her face. Turning, she found the figure standing behind her bedroom door, his glowing eyes on her. 

With one hand, Revenant pushed the door shut before stepping in front of it, continuing to stare at her. He stood nearly seven feet tall, his strange simulacrum figure towering over her in a disjointed manner. She didn’t want to shy away from him but found it difficult not to cringe. Simulacrums weren’t strange or new to her, but it wasn’t the fact that he had a robot body that made her nervous—it was the fact that he was a bitter serial killer who delighted in wanton death.

“Why are you in my flat?” she asked in a near whisper.

“You are a popular woman, aren’t you?” he asked in return, his synthetic voice deep.

“Popular is an overstatement,” she said. “I haven’t slept with most of the Legends, if that’s what you’re referring to.”

“I wanted to see you for myself.”

“You could have come into my workshop, you know. Like every other Legend does,” she said while simultaneously ducking her head a bit.

“I fail to see the fun in that,” he said. “I also fail to see anything interesting about you at all.”

“Great,” she said. “Show yourself out.”

He took her chin in his hand and snapped it upward so he could take a better look at her face. He turned it right, then left, then leaned down and examined her for several moments that crawled by, giving her the opportunity to get a good look at his own terrifying mask—a close-up she hadn’t asked for and didn’t need. Most simulacrums attempted to create a face that looked human, something which made them feel comfortable with their predicament if they were aware of their situation. She didn’t know anything about his creation, but it was clear he had decided to keep this face and that said enough about him.

Seemingly satisfied, he let her go and stood up straight once again.

“Maybe there is something to you,” he said. “I have a proposition.”

“Oh good, and here I was just hoping you’d leave,” she said.

“You’re going to grow weary of all the attention you receive from these insipid boys at some point, because it is all the same. The stimulation they offer is tedious,” he said.

“Will I?” she asked. “It seems like a pretty good deal right now.”

His long, thin fingers flexed and snaked around her upper arm, squeezing it. His firm grasp didn’t hurt, but it was enough to remind her of his strength.

“Have you ever been at death’s door, knowing your life is slipping away from you only to feel the exhilaration of having it rush back into your body?”

“No, I’m very attached to being alive,” she said.

“Coward,” he said. “You would not die. There is no sense in killing a plaything. I have no desire to find another.”

“Why the hell would I trust you?” she asked, trying to shake her arm loose from his hold. “Let’s say I agree to whatever fucked up thing you’re proposing. What if you get caught up in the moment like the jacked-up murderer you are and just end me? You _love_ killing.”

He yanked her up against his chassis.

“I can kill anyone. You, I’ll hunt down. I’ll drive you to the brink. I’ll make you feel more alive than you’ve ever felt before.”

“Go away,” she whispered, light-headed.

He released her and gave her one final glance.

“I know you’ll change your mind. I’ve heard your curiosity always gets the better of you. Ask your _special_ robot friend where to find me. He knows,” he said, then ducked out of her bedroom.

“Okay yeah, I fucked the MRVN!” she called after him, flapping her arms at her side in bewilderment. “Christ.”

She could hear his laughter outside her front door.

Minutes later, the power returned to her flat. She was still standing in her bedroom, trying to process what just happened. A shudder ran down her spine as she replayed the scene in her mind. When the spasm reached her tailbone, she felt her mobile in her back pocket vibrate, snapping her back to reality. She snatched it, eager for the distraction. It was a message from Elliott, thank god.

_Oh hell yeah, what are you cooking? Lamb shawarma?_

_Anything you want,_ she replied. _I’m going to the store now_.

She hadn’t gotten to her kitchen before she got his reply.

_No need, I’ll bring everything over. Thanks for the text, babe. On my way._

She started getting things ready, mulling over what the fuck had just happened to her. The whole thing felt so surreal, like it must have happened to an entirely different person. She was miles away when her front door chimed. She looked up from the spices she had been organizing on her counter absentmindedly. The cavalry had arrived.

She rushed to the door and pulled it open, pulling Elliott in immediately. He laughed at her enthusiastic reception, unable to hand her bags of groceries fast enough. She gave him a quick kiss and then lugged everything into the kitchen, leaving him at the front door.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, why?" 

He cleared his throat as he walked into the kitchen after her. She turned back to him and dropped the spoon she had been holding. 

His beard was gone. His face was clean-shaven, revealing several more old scars.

"Holy shit, you look so young," she said.

"Right? Like twenty-five at least," he said, holding his arms out.

"What inspired this?" she asked.

"Singed a bunch of it on a thermite grenade last match, figured I might as well get rid of it all," he said.

She put her hands on his cheeks and grinned.

"Thank goodness you didn't burn your face," she said. "Even if you did, though, you'd still be handsome."

"Man, I am happy you texted me," he said. 

"I'm happy you finally replied," she said. "I was worried you were mad at me."

"For what?"

She patted his cheek and returned to preparing dinner. He sidled up next to her and helped where he could. The two of them pushed on each other and got very little prep-work accomplished, trying to get the other to laugh. While she was trying to get things in order, he swiped the cumin away from her and shoved it in his front pocket, earning himself a not-so-serious glare. Her attempts to get it back were less than successful, as he managed to grab her wrists and keep her at bay.

“Elliott!” she said, trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

He tugged her into his frame and let go of her arms, draping his arms over her shoulders instead. 

"Hey, I know we agreed this is an open thing. _It just so happens the open part seems to really be benefiting you_ ,” he said.

"What was that last part?" she asked. "You were muttering."

"Be honest. He's overcompensating, right?"

"Elliot, I'm not getting into it," she said, her hands drifting to his waist. "But any time Fitzroy's bothering you, remind him you can go at it so many more times a night than him."

"He's old as shit!" Elliott said in excitement, reveling in the realization.

She nodded, her hands drifting under his shirt, finding his skin. His glimmering brown eyes locked with hers as her fingers trailed toward his abdomen, tracing his muscles there. After a few more moments of her pawing at him, he kissed her. She returned his kiss and he soon became the sole thing that occupied her mind. If anything else had happened during the day, she buried it.

After several minutes, she leaned back slightly and brushed her lips against his, her hands moving to his jeans, unbuttoning them as she hummed quietly. After tugging them down, she got to her knees and ran a hand over his half-erect cock. She wrapped her lips around him and felt him grow hard in her mouth.

"Yep, I really like you," he said, his hand now on her head.

Letting him slip from her mouth, she smiled up at him. Before she could do anything else to him, he pulled her up by her arms and turned her around, holding her against the counter. He undid her pants and pulled them past her ass, his fingers between her legs. He bit at her neck from behind as he stroked her clit. She shifted her ass toward him and stepped wide, making it easier for him. He took immediate advantage of her gracious positioning, pressing his fingers into her bud as he rubbed it.

"Mmm, Elliott," she cooed.

He loved the sound of his own name and she knew it. He grabbed her again and hauled her out of the kitchen, finding her small dining table she never used. It had become a repository for papers, old books, and random electronics.

"Any of this important?" he asked, motioning to all of it.

She shook her head.

With one broad sweep, most of it was on the floor. He then picked her up by the waist, set her on the table's edge, and started tugging the rest of her clothes off. His mouth found hers, his hands on her breasts as he pushed himself between her legs. She could feel his erection brush against her, igniting a fire inside her. She hadn't been aroused when he arrived, but now that he was here, touching her, his warm body against hers, she was lit up.

She rested on her elbows and lifted her legs, sliding her feet over his shoulders with a look that dared him to resist her. He leaned into her and she let out a groan, her toes pointing as he slowly slid himself into her. He paused and pulled his shirt off, then ran his hands through his hair.

"I'm surprised you're willing to go at it out here," she said. "Not a mirror in sight."

"It's not always about how good we look, you know," he said, giving his hair a well-practiced flick.

" _Who_ are you?" she asked. 

He grinned, wrapping his arms around her legs where they rested against his chest, and moved in and out of her with deliberate patience. She lay down completely on the table and her fingers found her clit, picking up where he had left off. There was no rush, there rarely was with Elliott, so she teased all of her folds lightly, watching his brown eyes wander along her body. His gaze was entirely welcome, unlike others.

"What's that look for?" he asked.

"What?" 

"You look like you just tasted something terrible," he said.

She pulled her legs from his chest and grabbed his arm, drawing him toward her. He didn't fight her, leaning over her to kiss her again as she circled her arms around his neck. Her legs dangled off the edge of the table as he continued his thrusts, uninterrupted. She could lose herself in him; everything about him was so inviting, so familiar, from the way he smelled vaguely of myrrh to the calluses on his fingertips and the gentle laughter he injected into anything when he enjoyed himself.

He hooked one arm under her leg and pulled it up. He didn't break her embrace, nor did he stop kissing her. There was something about the way she clung to him that told him she craved his touch more than usual. His lips moved to her jaw and he nuzzled her, kissing along her neck. She whimpered in delight as his free hand found her breast again, lightly rolling her nipple between his fingers, occasionally pinching it as he nibbled at her skin.

"Elliott," she whispered.

He stood up straight, resting her on the table, his hips gaining speed. She writhed under him, reacting to his attention like she truly needed him. He slid his hand into hers at her side and squeezed it tight. She was gorgeous and he absolutely loved that she looked like this because of him. 

Her other hand resumed stroking her clit, the lazy caresses now replaced with something much more urgent. Her back arched from the table as she moaned, the desperate aching sensation building under her hand. Then, with a long cry, she pulled her hand away as the orgasm rushed through her body, her heart pounding between her ears, though muffled as if enveloped with cotton. She was faint, her back falling against the table, her groans becoming gasps.

Part of him didn’t want it to be over yet, but he could save the rest for later in the evening, when he had her in bed. He let go of her hand and lifted both of her legs, squeezing them together as he rested them on his shoulder. The less patient part of him decided to willingly lose the battle and he felt his groin tense for a moment before a shudder ran through his body. He groaned as he hurried his pace, as if going faster could somehow prolong the euphoria he felt. Ultimately, the sensation was too much—he came to a stop, his knees wavering. Letting her legs go, he leaned into her for a minute. 

She pushed herself into a sitting position and gave him a kiss that lingered, her fingertips on his jaw. Once they both caught their breath, he slid her from the table and hugged her, his lips on her temple.

"Most recipes leave this step out, but if you ask me, it's a crucial part of the process," he said.

With a smirk, she tugged him by the hand toward the bathroom.

She piled their dishes into the sink after dinner and looked at the mess on her limited counter space. Zero part of her wanted to clean any of it. Even if she normally felt any compulsion to immediately deal with it, that desire was gone at the moment. Instead, she stared at it, as if she could will it all away.

"You okay in here?" Elliott asked as he brought in a few more dishes.

"Yeah, fine," she said, turning her attention to the sink.

Stepping up to her side, he disposed of his things, then rested his hip against the counter. He placed a hand on the top of her head and gently spun it to look at him. Her resulting expression was a mixture of surprise and annoyance, which didn't faze him at all. It was a look he’d grown used to seeing over the years.

"I'll clean up," he said. "Can I um, bend your ear about some stuff?"

"Uh oh," she said, her brow perked.

"Nah, nothing like that. I just wanna chat a little about my… mom, if that's cool," he said. "Totally fine if it's not. I get how hearing about a guy's mom is super weird–"

She smiled and gave his chest a few soft pats.

"It’s fine. Every Frontier engineer knows the name Evelyn Witt. Let's go for a walk and we can talk," she said, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Sure, I can pick up some wine," he said. 

Before they walked out the front door, she pulled her mobile from her pocket and set it on a nearby shelf.

"You’re leaving that behind? Wow, I'm flattered," he said.

"Did you have any siblings?" she asked as she locked up, looking to change the subject.

"Let me start with my mom. I'll get to them after that," he said, circling his arm around her waist as they strolled away from her flat. “Do these pants smell like cumin to you?” 


	13. Unholy Alliance - 3rd Person POV (Revenant)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erotic near death experiences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the previous chapter for the lead up.
> 
> Revenant is a murderous asshole with serious issues. No fluffy way around that.
> 
> ! **CONTENT WARNING**! <\-- Mouse over this text to see the content warning, if you are so inclined. See the end notes if you're on mobile.

Her lower back was killing her. It had been all day and all evening beforehand. That had been enough on its own, but the cramps that just kicked in made it difficult to focus on work. Instead, she leaned on her desk, squinting at the skylight above her. One positive thing about not working at the Syndicate’s tower proper was she got some actual sunlight, even if she was on Solace City's outskirts. Being further out gave her more room to work, which she definitely wasn’t doing at the moment.

“You have the posture of a woman who says she’s enjoying life.”

She turned with her hand on the small of her back, trying to smile. She ended up grimacing at her visitor instead. Anita crossed the workshop floor toward the firing range with a chuckle.

“Get a heating pad.”

The chief nodded, continuing to grimace. Giving up, she fell into her chair and rested her head in her arms for a few moments. She had already scoured her shop for any painkillers and came up empty-handed, meaning she’d have to leave to pick some up. The idea didn’t thrill her. She’d rather lie on the floor and groan for twelve hours straight.

She didn’t know how long she had been there, but the feeling of someone wiggling her chair woke her up.

“Get up.”

It was Anita again. 

“You’re not going to do your back any favors sleeping like that,” she said. “Come on, stand up.”

She got up from her chair and attempted to stretch before her back sent a jolt of pain straight up her spine, making her groan and double over. Anita pulled her over to the edge of the desk, sat her on the corner, and then rubbed her troubled muscles with firm hands. Her eyes squinted at Anita’s precision and intense pressure, but after a few moments, the tightness started to budge.

“What, no soothing music or scented candles?” she asked.

“I’d recognized* that pained hunch a mile away,” Anita said. “Your back is a mess. You need to take better care of yourself.”

“You get shot at for a living,” she said.

“I also do my stretches every day,” Anita said.

“Friends!”

Both women turned toward the workshop’s entryway, recognizing Pathfinder’s voice. He was standing there, waving at them. When he got no immediate reply, he strode in and stood before them. 

“I’ll let the walking greeting card take over for me,” Anita said, slapping her back a few times. “Hey robot. She needs her back rubbed.”

“I can do that,” Pathfinder said. “I have a lot of things to tell you!”

“I’ll take a rain check,” Anita said. “Have fun, kids.”

Williams saw herself out, leaving Pathfinder with the friend he had not seen for quite some time. She stretched a bit, feeling much better than the last time she tried to sit up straight. It didn’t last long, though—she immediately hunched over again and grumbled.

“Where do I rub?” Pathfinder asked.

“You’re a doll,” she said. “Lower back, above my glutes.”

He circled her and put his hands on her back, pressing in on her muscles.

“Incorrect, I am an extremely unique MRVN made for a particular purpose. Here?”

“Lower, and out to the sides a bit more.”

“Here?”

“Perfect,” she said.

“I learned who my creators are!” he said in excitement as he went to work on her tight spots.

“Okay, that’s too much,” she said. “Lighten up a little.”

“I used to be a masseuse, you know.”

“How’d that go?” she asked.

“They fired me for breaking bones.”

“Yeah, you have a heavy hand,” she said. “Wait. Did you say you learned who your creators are?”

“I did!”

She looked over her shoulder at him.

“You’ve been busy,” she said. “That’s really cool, Path. Were you able to meet them?”

“They died saving the Outlands,” he said, his voice sad. “I can tell you the whole story if you like.”

“Maybe another time,” she said. “I feel terrible. Speaking of stories, you also need to tell me about this girlfriend of yours.”

“Ex-girlfriend,” he said, his voice growing even sadder.

“Yikes,” she said. “If you were human, I’d offer you a bottle of whiskey or a carton of ice cream. Or both.”

“I appreciate it, friend,” he said. “Why do you feel terrible?”

“I have a human body,” she said.

“I like your human body.”

She couldn’t suppress her laughter. She was sure he would say that about anyone; nonetheless, it still warmed her. Between his odd compliment and imperfect backrub, her mood had improved. Her back still had quite a few complaints and her cramps persisted, but it was good to have him around.

"You haven't been by for so long," she said. "It's been months. If I didn't get the gossip from our friends, I'd be worried about you."

"It makes me happy you worry about me," he said.

"Yeah, well, you used to come over all the time and cook for me," she said. "Simpler days. What brings you in, anyway? Ouch, that's my spine."

"Sorry!" he said as he adjusted his grip. "I came in because I wanted to tell you that I found out who my creators are! I've been telling all of my friends. Is this the only part that hurts? We should take you to the doctor."

She waved her hand in dismissal.

"Nah, it's nothing painkillers, a beer, and a vibrator can't fix," she said.

"I can help," he said, ever eager.

With a snort, she leaned over her desk and grabbed her mobile. 

"Let me give you the credits for the drugs and the beer. You go pick those up first," she said.

"And then the—”

"Start with the drugs and the beer first," she said, her face flushing.

He gave her a thumbs up and bounded out of her workshop, happy to have something to do.

With a deep breath, she lay on her desk and stared at the ceiling, her arms flopped off the edges. For about ten minutes, she did nothing other than wait. She was sure she looked pathetic. She felt pathetic. Soon enough, though, she could hear the familiar sound of Pathfinder's metallic footsteps return.

"I'm back!" he said as he opened the door.

"Hallelujah," she replied.

Once at her side, he handed her a giant bottle of beer and a box of a single Silva branded injection—the good stuff. She pulled it out and held it to her forearm, releasing the trigger. It was a much smaller version of what the Legends used in the field, and rightly so. She had cramps, not bullet wounds.

"You spoil me," she said. "This is a nice beer, too. Did you go to a bottle shop for this?"

"I did!"

He reached down and popped the cap off with little effort. She held it up briefly in his direction before downing about eight ounces of it, then let out a satisfied exhale when she pulled the bottle away from her mouth. The painkillers were hitting her bloodstream already, but they'd take a bit longer to kick in. The beer took the edge off everything. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"A whole lot better, thanks bud," she said.

"What about—”

She held up her hand.

"You sure seem excited about that," she said. "I have a question for you."

"Maybe I'll have an answer!"

"Why'd you never think of me as your girlfriend?" she asked. "We did far more together."

"You have a lot of boyfriends already," he said. "I'm happy to be your good friend and do fun things with you. Besides, we have nothing in common. I'm sorry, friend. It wouldn't work."

"Ouch," she said.

"Sometimes, the truth is hard to hear."

She took another long drink. It hadn't been a serious question, but to have the robot decide they were friends with benefits stung just a little.

“Hey, you know where Revenant is holed up, don’t you?” she asked and then found herself wondering why she asked the question at all.

It was her goddamn curiosity.

“In Kings Canyon’s access tunnels. Why?” he asked, tilting his head.

She polished off the beer and underhanded it at the garbage across the room. When it hit the wall and bounced into the bin with a satisfying thud, she lifted her hands above her head in momentary triumph, then looked at him. He gave her a few claps, which were far from satisfying, given his hands were made of metal.

“Eh, he bothered me the other day,” she said.

“Now you want to go bother him,” he said.

“How the hell do you think I’m going to bother three-hundred-year-old simulacrum?” she asked.

“I know a lot about him now!”

“How?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“He told me.”

“He told you…,” she repeated.

“He’s strange. And likely a narcissist.”

“Alright then, lay this knowledge on me,” she said.

“Don’t you want me to help you—”

“Maybe next time, Path. You come over and make me some stew and I’ll give you maintenance. I’m sure you’re long overdue,” she said.

“Deal!” he said, his chest flashing a series of hearts.

The access tunnels had been a mess since Loba inadvertently sheared Skull Town off the island. They weren’t in any better shape after Fuse’s ship cratered into the landscape. Several of the tunnels were now flooded, caved in, or structurally at risk. She used to know the tunnels like the back of her hand, but since they were a mess, many direct routes were cut off. Thankfully, Pathfinder gave her the best entry point for her purposes.

She stood at the ladder under the hatch, her flashlight cutting through the dark in front of her. Now that she was here, it seemed like a terrible idea. Scratch that. It was a terrible idea. The longer she stood there, the more it sunk in that she was doing precisely what Revenant predicted she would. She didn’t know who she despised more: him for calling it or for her for behaving this way.

There was still time to crawl up the ladder and leave. She could find some work to do in preparation for the next games. Someone would be happy for her help. It was probably for the best if she didn’t seek him out. She preferred to keep her blood inside of her body, after all.

She grabbed a rung of the ladder and holstered her flashlight. Cold, metal fingers slid over her own, freezing her in place. She turned her head inch by inch, finding Revenant on the other side of the ladder, watching her. How long he had been there, she had no idea. She hadn’t heard him, but that was his thing, wasn’t it? 

“Predictable,” he said.

She could hear the satisfaction in his voice. If he could smile, she knew he would right then.

“It’s okay, I’m leaving,” she said.

“How many more weeks until you’re down here again?” he asked, rounding the ladder to stand toe to toe with her.

“However many weeks it is, I’ll be dead before then," she said. "Doing something far away from you."

He flexed his fingers and brushed them against the side of her neck, his thumb tracing up her throat until it reached her chin. His touch chilled her; her skin pricked with gooseflesh as the tip of his thumb pushed her chin up. She second-guessed every decision that led her here. She was a fool. He killed for fun and she strolled right in here like it was a game.

“Look at the way your eyes dart back and forth in terror,” he said. “How delightful. Having regrets, are we?”

He let her go.

“You’re nobody. What joy could I possibly derive from killing you?” he said. “You have no connection to Hammond, you’re a pawn for the Syndicate, and at best, you may have overheard some gossip from her.”

“One hell of a pep talk, ever considered motivational speaking?” she muttered.

He grunted.

“Let’s say I buy into this, that you’re not going to flay my skin from my body,” she said. “What are you going to do?”

Reaching down, he switched her flashlight off. The access tunnel was dark, the space where he had once been now pitch black. She swallowed hard, the sound echoing in her ears. A hand ran up her back and she ducked her head and shoulders.

“No light.” 

She couldn't pinpoint his position.

“No sound.”

He was everywhere at once.

“No voice.”

As if blinking into existence, his glowing orange eyes opened in front of her as he towered above her.

“Unable to move.”

“Completely at your mercy,” she whispered.

“Doesn’t it sound like fun?” he asked in a hiss.

“I just remembered, I’ve got to go wash my hair,” she said, grabbing the ladder.

He tucked his finger in her trousers and pulled her back slightly. She couldn’t see him as well as he could see her, which made her nervous. But she also realized under her nervousness was something else. Her body betrayed her. She was aroused and he had to sense it.

“I’ll give you two options,” he said. “You can go up that ladder and we can forget all of this _for now_. Or you can walk down this access tunnel and use the next ladder, and I will come for you at my discretion.”

“What do you mean, your discretion?” she asked, taking one hand off the ladder.

“I mean ‘my discretion.’ There will be no safeword, no second-guessing your choice,” he said as he leaned his face into her ear. “Only me, doing whatever I wish to you. And you, forgetting all about those idiotic skin bags.”

“I thought I was a nobody,” she said.

“Yes, but you’re the right nobody,” he said.

“There are women you can pay for this, you know,” she said, fully releasing the ladder.

“They don’t know anything about me, nor would I tell them a single detail,” he snapped, his hand withdrawing.

She grabbed her flashlight and turned it on.

“I still need to be able to do my job. And I need to keep all of my body parts. And my teeth. And organs. Skin is an organ, don’t forget,” she said.

“Shut up and leave one way or another.”

She shined her flashlight down the tunnel and made her way toward the next access hatch. After she got so far, she turned and looked for him. She couldn’t see him, but he lurked nearby. She could feel his eyes on her. Every part of her recognized how terrified she ought to be, but she was so amped up on adrenaline that she was full of foolhardy courage.

“I guess I'll see you soon enough, Kaleb,” she said.

From somewhere further in the tunnel, she heard a long, annoyed grunt.

The days went by and one week became two. At first, she looked over her shoulder constantly, checking every room before she could relax. She started to drop her guard at some point, finding it easy to slip into her old routine. A few days of this snapped her straight back into paranoia. She even received a message from Tae Joon asking what she was searching for in her flat all the damn time. She didn’t want to confess she'd entered some strange pact with Revenant.

She found it easier to be around people. On evenings she was alone, she spent time at the bar down the alley. There was nothing special about the place. It had alcohol and after enough of it, she'd feel brave enough to return home to face her inevitable fate.

After closing out on a night off, she strolled down the alley, her hands jammed in her pockets. She sighed, then sighed again. Maybe he wouldn't do anything at all. Maybe terrorizing her was the point. Her shoulders slumped, her head tilting to look at the night's sky showing in the narrow gap between the buildings.

The dumpster behind her shifted and she jumped half a foot in the air. When she looked back, she saw several rats skittering about at its base. With her hand on her chest, she inhaled deeply and turned around. She was eye to unblinking eye with Revenant.

She shrieked and stumbled back a step.

"Run," he said.

"What?" she asked, breathless.

"It's no _fun_ if you don't run," he said as he crouched, his long, inhuman limbs looking ready to pounce.

"I can't outrun you," she said.

"Shut up and run."

Her nostrils flared. The way he spoke to her annoyed her enough to fill her with the particular reckless courage she had no business feeling in his presence. If he wanted her to run, she'd run. She knew the side streets better than he did.

She bounced on the ball of her foot, turned, and sped through the alley at full speed. As she went, she heard him chuckle—not necessarily the sound most people wanted to hear, but she was deep in it now and the prospect thrilled her.

After several minutes of running, she slowed. She hadn't seen him behind her once. He wouldn't be after her on foot, that was too simple. She spun in circles, looking above her. A hand pulled her up by her shirt from behind. She freed her head and arms from the garment and bolted in the opposite direction. A shirtless woman was one of the less shocking things the alleys of Solace City had seen.

She made it through several more blocks before he jumped into her path halfway down an alley with an alarming amount of grace. She ran full force into him and fell backward onto the ground with a pained noise. He crouched again, his elbows on his knees, studying her.

"You run better than half the Legends," he said.

"Maybe my stakes are a lot weirder," she said, her words coming in pants.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her up with him.

"What's a little pain in exchange for ecstasy?" he asked.

"Yours or mine?" she asked.

A cloud rose around them, something she recognized as the devices he used to render his opponents helpless in the field. With no effort, he hefted her into his arms. She tried to give him a fight, but her arms felt heavy and her voice vanished. It was easier to give in, to let her eyes drift shut. She didn't have much of a choice, but she knew full well she willingly put herself in this situation.

With a gasp, she summoned the last of her energy and grabbed the bottom of his headscarf, tugging at it as hard as she could. She could hear him laughing as the darkness seeped in until it was all that remained.

When she woke, the darkness persisted. She rested on her side, her wrists bound in front of her. Testing the bindings revealed they were tight and done well, but didn't prevent her from extending her arms, which she stretched. The next thing she noted was that, other than lying on the hard ground, she wasn't in any pain. She rolled onto her back. The cold metal on her skin confirmed she had been stripped nude.

Skittering.

A finger on her forehead.

"Awake, are we?"

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked, still groggy.

She heard a series of strange noises from behind her head, that of energy ebbing and flowing. It wasn't like any energy she recognized, certainly not electricity. It was something more primal, something she recognized but couldn't put words to. At the same time, it didn't belong. It felt all wrong.

He grabbed her bound hands and pulled them above her head until she touched whatever strange thing made these uncomfortable sounds. When she did, the energy flowed from her hands through her arms to the rest of her body. The sensation was terrible at first, she couldn't make any sense of it. While her mind raced, he tore the blindfold from her face.

"Wait!" she yelled.

For a moment, her head screamed with the worst pain she had ever suffered in her entire life. And then like that, it was gone. In less than a second, it was replaced with a slight ringing, then nothing.

She blinked. The odd energy dissipated. Still flinching, her mouth hung half-open. He lowered the Wingman, standing over her. She had seen this during games plenty of times, but to experience it for herself was something else entirely.

"You just shot me in the head!" she said.

Whatever grogginess she had been experiencing was gone. She was wide awake.

"You lived," he said. "I'm not going to kill you. There's your proof."

"Where the hell did the bullet go?"

"Not in your head."

"How does any of this work?!"

He pulled her blindfold down, then produced and tied a cloth gag around her mouth. She took several deep breaths as he yanked her arms out and injected her with something. As it circulated through her, she recognized it as a painkiller. An extreme example, most certainly, but one that proved a point.

He pulled her hands above her head again before she felt his fingertips touch her lower lip, then trail down her neck until they rested between her breasts. He drummed them there, as if waiting for something. She had no way to know for what, so she did her best to calm herself.

"Isn't it adorable, the way you breathe?" he finally asked.

Her heart nearly leaped through her chest, she was sure he could feel it.

His hand continued past her stomach until his whole palm slid over her pussy. As her knees bent upward in reaction to his touch, she realized her legs weren't bound at all, as if it mattered. She gasped into her gag when his fingers spread her labia, wandering along their folds.

"Are we learning some uncomfortable truths about ourselves?" he asked, his voice the quietest she had ever heard it.

His fingertips grazed her clit and she tilted her head back, the whine she was trying to hold in escaping. He let go of her bound wrists and rested his hand on her neck, stroking its length since she had it stretched out before him. He then pushed it flat against the ground, closing his hand around her without squeezing.

She could hear him occasionally mutter small sounds of satisfaction as he toyed with her, which surprised her. The idea that he was enjoying himself in some way turned her on. She drove herself up under his hand, but he forced her down, his hand applying pressure around her neck.

"So eager," he said, his voice next to her ear.

His grip on her neck made it difficult, but not impossible, to breathe. At the same time, he leaned into her with his other fingers, his diagonal stroke against her swollen clit intensifying. Rather than struggle for breath, she held it as long as she could. When she was sure her lungs were about to burst, he released his grasp and she gasped for air.

"I'm going to give you one chance to leave," he said as he untied her gag, watching her chest rise and fall as she caught her breath.

She had no reason to trust him. No matter how many times she told herself that, she couldn't resist the danger. It very well could be her undoing, a risk she recognized.

"I'm staying," she said, summoning her most confident tone.

He left her gag untied and curled his hand around her throat. His fingers thrust against her clit and resumed rubbing it. His body was not constrained by physical exhaustion, his hand and arm could keep any pace without interruption. He let her breathe without restriction as she pressed the soles of her feet into the floor.

"Say it," he growled.

"Kaleb," she mewled between breaths.

" _Do better than that."_

With a whimper, her hips lifted from the floor as the tension coiled inside her. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, it all poured from beneath his hand. She screamed his name as she came, as his fingers dug into her and carried on. He showed no signs of letting up.

He leaned over her, absorbing her reaction. When her body began to shudder from over-stimulation, he tightened his grip on her neck. Her breathing was already heavy from the orgasm, so she sputtered as her source of air was cut off. He softened the pressure of his fingers on her clit but did not remove them.

At first, she rode her body high, her lack of breath more annoying than urgent. At some point, though, she needed air and she couldn't get it. Her lungs begged for oxygen while her brain screamed to take a breath. She could do nothing under his weight except flounder.

She didn’t know how long she was like this. Seconds. Minutes. Time seemed to move every speed at once. Then, a curious sensation finally kicked in—a wonderful sense of euphoria overtook her body, melding with the ecstasy she still felt between her legs. She floated, brimming with an unfettered sense of joy.

At that moment, she felt the strange energy fill her once again. It ran from her hands down along her arms through her torso, into her legs. She found it extraordinarily disconcerting. It was also the last thing she experienced for about half a second before her body rubber-banded into existence. 

She took the biggest breath she'd ever taken in her entire life. Everything came rushing back to her, her body prickled as if on pins and needles. She'd never experienced so much before all at once. It wasn't merely the orgasm, it was life crashing through her.

"Holy shit," she said, her voice reverberating inside her head. It also filled whatever room he had brought her to. It sounded a little different than she remembered.

He let out a deep laugh and injected her with another pain killer. He then untied her wrists, his fingers working quickly on the rope he had used to bind her. Before she could reach for her blindfold, he grabbed her hands, clutching them a little too tightly.

"I'll come for you again," he said.

She should have registered his statement as a threat. Yet, from the way she felt physically, the way he grasped her hands, and the way he rumbled the words rather than snarling them, her mind softened the intention of his statement. She was probably out of her mind, but at that moment, endorphins were responsible for many of her decisions. For that same reason, she hardly cared.

His hands left her and she finally pulled off her blindfold. She was in an old warehouse with barely enough light from the streets outside filtering in to allow her to see. He was already gone, which didn't surprise her. She couldn’t return the favor, not to her knowledge.

Her clothes were neatly folded a few feet away, her powered-off mobile lying on top of them. When she picked them up and dressed, she marveled how he had creased the cloth with such meticulous precision. Nobody who folded clothes like that was well-adjusted.

Anyone who was well-adjusted didn't let an addled assassin strangle them to death for the sake of pleasure.

Better not to think about it too hard right now, she decided.

She dusted herself off and turned on her mobile. The startup tone greeted her cheerfully. She had never been so happy to hear something so mundane.

She found a door to a side street and stepped out, the night's air hitting her full on. With a deep breath, she stopped under a streetlight and bothered to take note of what she smelled—oil and rust, but also the faint scent of a fryer not too far off.

"Hi, friend!"

From her right-hand side, Pathfinder approached, waving at her.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Oh, hey. I must be near your warehouse," she said, starting to piece together exactly where she was.

"You are! I’m headed to the Paradise Lounge. Let's go together," he said.

She checked the time. It was only 10:00 PM. 

"Sure, why not. I could use a drink," she said.

Pathfinder draped an arm across her shoulders and they continued down the street side by side as he chattered away. She reached up and put her hand on top of his where it rested on her shoulder, holding onto several of his fingers. She was still somewhere a foot or two off the ground and she was happy he was there with her.

More than that, she could truly say she was happy to be alive for the first time in a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: This chapter includes breathplay in the form of choking and near/death.
> 
> Breathplay is dangerous. Obviously, it is taken to the unintended conclusion (death) in this piece for narrative reasons, but beyond death, breathplay (like all forms of edgeplay) can lead to all sorts of complications that can affect a person permanently. While there are forms of light breathplay that are much safer than what is portrayed here, there is no completely safe form of breathplay.


End file.
